


Hero Capture Jar

by 111 (Insert)



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! GX
Genre: Accidental Kissing, Aged-Up Character(s), Alcohol, Duel Spirits, Multi, Post-Series, Terrible Jokes, speedwriting
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-11-18
Updated: 2021-01-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 19:27:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 32,203
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27621356
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Insert/pseuds/111
Summary: In which Edo Phoenix tries to solve a problem in the most direct way possible and then runs into two people who, in his not-humble opinion, excel at doing the complete opposite.
Relationships: Manjoume Jun | Chazz Princeton/Edo Phoenix | Aster Phoenix/Yuuki Judai | Jaden Yuki
Comments: 17
Kudos: 32





	1. Accidental

**Author's Note:**

> A few notes:
> 
> \- This fic is basically going to be Edo running down a bunch of hallways followed by a lot of banter and eventual kissing. It’s...about as self-indulgent as a fic gets. 
> 
> \- This post-series fic takes place roughly a year after the anime. Consequently, it does contain spoilers for most of GX. It also references quite a few episodes from season 4 along the way. 
> 
> \- While this is based off the sub, some stuff from the dub will probably show up regardless.
> 
> \- ...This...is the essence of late-night speedwriting, and I'll do another pass for grammar tomorrow and also get another chapter posted. Also, shout out to Jean, since I did yell a bunch about this OT3. Thanks for encouraging me!

\---

It had  _ actually _ come to this. 

Flattening himself against the wall, Edo waited as the nearby guard completed another section of his patrol route -- checking the offices on this level one-by-one and then circling back around to the elevator. The steady beats of those combat boots were easy to track, as were the rustles and creaks of that heavy uniform. When the guard's radio crackled to life, the exchange sounded entirely routine and, well, reasonably pleasant. Neither party seemed aware that the cameras on this level and the one above it had stopped recording. The monitors inside the guard post would be showing footage from the previous day instead, courtesy of the, ah,  _ slight  _ adjustments he had already made to the equipment there. 

Being a prodigy had its advantages, of course. 

Combined with the reconnaissance that he’d completed the previous day, it had made the mission laughably simple. All that remained for this phase was to move past the guard, head down an unpatrolled set of stairs to the bottom level, and then access the safe itself. 

Regardless, if a few people had been a  _ bit  _ more cooperative, then he -- Edo Phoenix, the world-renowned duelist with an official win-loss ratio so pristine that it could make even seasoned veterans of the pro league shake from the force of their jealousy -- wouldn’t have needed to enact such a direct form of justice. 

All things considered, it had been quite some time since he had put on a disguise and snuck out under the cover of darkness. 

Then again, it wasn't as if his relevant skills had dulled during that time. Frankly, it would have been embarrassing if they had.

With the guard now  _ en route _ to the elevator, Edo had the simple task of waiting for those boots to clunk-clunk-clunk past his hiding position: behind a display case located in a narrower hallway that cut perpendicular through the offices and led straight to the stairs. Although he  _ could  _ have made a run for it while the guard was preoccupied with checking the offices, there had been a risk of that same guard (constantly fumbling with key cards and the like) seeing him sprint by.

Not that he couldn’t have handled that as well. 

It wouldn’t have been his first fight with someone much larger than he was. In the past, pursuing justice had been...a messy endeavour on occasion, the rumors swirling around the stolen card pulling him further and further down perilous streets, towards a dangerous form of the night.

Still, he listened to the fall of those boots and...stood there, contending with his own boredom. In an unwelcome twist, the display case contained framed photos of various charitable events that the founder of this company, Kosuge Hiroyuki, had attended. In those moments, Kosuge always threw on the same too-stiff TV-show-host grin for the camera. Scrawled across oversized check after oversized check, the amounts that Kosuge donated always paled in comparison to the suits he wore and rings gleaming on his immaculate, fussed-over hands. 

Like many rich types in this city, Kosuge had a not-concealed-in-the-slightest obsession with Duel Monsters, which was probably the motivation behind why a man with the resources to live in absolute luxury had  _ still  _ resorted to stealing a one-of-a-kind deck. 

In a real ‘villain from an early-morning show for kids’ move, Kosuge had even stolen it from a fundraiser for a charity.

A children’s charity.

That Edo had founded.

As a professional duelist, he did spend most of his time traveling between cities for various tournaments, official appearances, and business ventures, and when one of his assistants had informed him via text that Kosuge and his entourage had been ‘kind enough’ to visit the site of an upcoming exhibit to benefit the charity and raise public awareness of it, Edo had found the idea...annoying. Sure, he’d heard of Kosuge, a consequence of being a celebrity, and he’d heard enough  _ about  _ Kosuge to find the idea of that person barging into his event distasteful. 

When he had returned to the city and visited the event site himself, the rare deck ready for display -- which a retired pro had given him in support of the charity, much to the chagrin of various collectors -- had already been swapped out for a fake. A convincing replica at a distance. 

An  _ insulting  _ one up close.

Kosuge Hiroyuki had not accounted for the fact that Edo Phoenix could see duel spirits, and the absence of the albino snake that always curled itself around those cards had been like red paint over his eyes, over the cards, and dripped out in a trail that led right to the baseless, spineless villain, the architect of this scheme. Confirming the theft had been simple -- he had checked the security footage of the event site, noted  _ when  _ there was a suspicious gap in the live feed, and then compared the entry logs for all personnel and visitors. Because Kosuge was not a complete moron, the gap was long enough to create hundreds of possible suspects. 

Then again, only one person on that list had recently installed a climate-controlled safe in the basement of their most secure building. 

And contracted a company famous for working with rare card collectors to do so. 

And sent his secretary a message referencing the ‘souvenir from the exhibit grounds’. 

And so on, and so on.

Edo had already tried the ‘softball’ approach, trying to gain access to the building in a more conventional manner so that he could smooth talk his way around security, find a way to access the safe, and switch the decks back himself before the impending exhibit. It was, in hindsight, a positive that the approach had failed.

He had always liked hardball better anyways, and he wasn’t too shy to leave a few bruises along the way.

\---

Aside from the hum of the artificial lights above and faint creaks, snaps, and muffled sounds inherent to any large building, the bottom level was a place of tense silence, the halls here wide expanses of white tiles and equally white walls. It was very ‘Society of Light’ with a minimalist twist, and he was not, in any sense of the word, a ‘fan’ of it.

With more time to prepare, he would have chosen a more...detailed outfit for this mission, specifically one that would’ve made it difficult for anyone to determine his actual height and build and also would’ve allowed for him to fit in another layer of body armor. As it was, he had dug a generic, one-piece motorcycle suit out of the back of his personal closet (something his friend Saiou had found years ago at a second-hand market, only for the sleeves to be too short) and managed to fit a combat vest over it, just in case. Also owing to time constraints, he had grabbed a tinted motorcycle helmet that he normally used to avoid the paparazzi and covered all the identifiable markings with black paint. The result was cruder then he would have liked.

To add insult to injury, this entire mission had also forced him to miss the premier of a new tokusatsu drama. 

That alone was a serious offence. In advance, he had taken this night off -- his first in well over eight months without a party, meeting, or television appearance attached to it -- for that reason alone.

“ _ Edo _ ?”

Following the blueprints he had memorized, there were no decent hiding places along this section of the hallway, and the décor gave him no advantages either. The glance over his shoulder revealed only white, a lot of white. After another beat passed, he reached up for the controls on the side of his helmet.

“What do you have for me?”

_ "The patrols are continuing as expected on the upper levels,”  _ Emeralda explained, using the bugs he had already set. _ “Once you have the deck, taking the route we discussed earlier remains your best option." _

"Yeah, makes sense," he muttered back, assessing his surroundings again. "I'll check in once I have the goods, just so we can avoid any...surprises."

_ "Confirmed. Good luck." _

He closed the line, checked over his shoulder again (nothing there, although the back of his neck had chilled with a ‘ _watched_ ’ sort of feeling), and continued towards his target. Involving his manager had not been a part of the original plan, but when she had approached him to raise her own suspicions about Kosuge's visit, the collaboration had been inevitable. 

And advantageous, as Emeralda had a, well,  _ useful  _ amount of knowledge on all things related to security systems.

Edo knew when to put a card into his deck, so to speak. Therefore, he wasn't going to ask her any unnecessary questions.

Ahead, the hallway widened, the room it opened into it just as white and plain as expected. That room, however, did have one distinguishing feature: the grey safe door, taking up most of the far wall. The electronic lock poised to the left glowed a faint blue-green, the retinal scanner ready to be activated by the boss himself or one of his cohort.

It would have to keep waiting, and, crouching down, Edo removed the small, black box from his vest's inner pocket, raised it up to the side of the electronic lock, and waited for it to beep, bypassing one of the most advanced security checks that money could buy.

Again, he had no reason to ask Emeralda unnecessary things, including why she had a contact who, on less than twenty-four-hours notice, could make him a home-made key to this overwrought lock. It was simpler than dragging Kosuge himself -- eye and all -- here, kicking and screaming the whole way.

Simpler, but not nearly as satisfying.

_ Beeeebeep! _

Clicking the device off, Edo tucked it away and stepped back, an animation of a key rotating over the display with the word 'PROCESSING…' spread out below. The rumble began in the walls, then it reached down into the floor and made the tiles quake. The massive door swung open with enough drama for a big-budget heist movie, and as the inside was revealed, Edo’s already-pathetically-low opinion of this Kosuge tunneled down through several more layers of bedrock. 

To say that the inside of the vault was ‘gaudy’ would have been generous. Diplomatic, actually.

Despite the lack of any windows, red velvet curtains had been strung up and fell down in thick waves around the many intricate pedestals positioned inside. Wooden panels with golden details had been placed over the inner walls, giving the environment a 'knock-off palace interior' atmosphere, which was furthered by the many antique chairs and couches strewn about like a restless child’s playthings.

It was all, in effect, a sharp contrast to the utilitarian white of the basement hallways, and Edo shook his head as he stepped in this behemoth of a hidden room. 

Well, whatever. It didn't exactly _ surprise  _ him that an impulsive billionaire would craft a treasure box like this. The full-sized portrait of Kosuge himself sprawled across the opposite wall featured that same empty grin from the photographs. 

...Kudos to the artist for capturing the inauthentic so authentically.

"Sorry, but I'm not here to chat," Edo muttered under his breath as he walked further in, letting his gaze travel over the pedestals. Each featured a deck under glass. Only one had a small, pale snake inside, like the inhabitant of an elaborate terrarium. The spirit, as usual, did not react to his presence, not even when he reached out to remove the glass cover, and-

At the unmistakable murmur of approaching voices, Edo took off -- sprinting out of the vault and concealing himself behind the still-open door. That the deck was  _ still  _ inside the vault poised an obvious problem, but shattering the glass could have damaged those valuable cards and-

The murmur grew, containing two different voices- No, four. A group of that size could be...difficult to subdue. He would need to observe, wait, and time an attack perfectly, the end result being-

Oh, damn it all.

He  _ knew  _ those voices, especially the grating, whining one of that group's leader. 

If he was forced under very specific and possibly supernatural purposes to make an honest list of the people who he  _ least  _ wanted to see right now, Manjoume Jun (aka Manjoume Thunder, aka Manjoume 'Rampaging Thunder' or whatever his current gimmick was) would  _ not  _ have been in the top ten. Or even the top one-hundred. Those spaces were reserved for actual villains who delighted in hurting others, especially targeting those without the means to fight back for themselves. 

All things considered, if he was still under that same oath of absolute honesty, then he would have to admit that Manjoume was a...decent colleague. Yes, the other duelist had remained exceptionally loud, erratic, and always on the brink of bursting into a full-blown argument or an 'I'm the great Manjoume Thunder, look at me' speech. He also worked harder than most other initiates to the pro league did. He knew how to play for a crowd and give his fans what they wanted. 

And yet-

And yet, at the very core of it all, Manjoume Jun would still have ranked highly on that list, taking the very first spot after all the villains and their associates. The reasons for that were complicated. 

Far more complicated than Edo wanted them to be.

\---

_ Swiping one finger over the gleaming bar, Manjoume continued to draw those lop-sided circles with the condensation from his glass as he rambled on, his suit a crumpled wreck with his loosened tie as an uneven line of deep blue over the folds of black and white below.  _

_ "-actually  _ thought  _ I'd just give up the duel because of a first turn like that. Like, come on. An opponent shouldn't underestimate me, of all people. That upstart was practically  _ begging _ for me to defeat him," Manjoume recounted, the syllables slurring together, and Edo really could have stood up and left for a different part of this gala, a part where he wasn't sitting alone next to Manjoume Jun and hearing about a duel he'd already seen earlier that night. It had ended promptly, Manjoume swinging for over 15,000 points with a beefed-up Ojama King and shredding that titan of his opponent’s ace monster. _

_ Edo’s own glass was empty, even though it shouldn't have been. There were sponsors here who he should have been talking to right now. He still needed to give a formal greeting to the organizer of this tournament. _

_ Edo watched Manjoume absently draw another circle, his long fingers so pale that they almost glowed against the dark surface of the bar. The cuffs of his dress shirt and the suit jacket thrown over it had rolled back slightly, just enough to expose the thin junction between his hand and his wrist.  _

_ "Well, some opponents need to learn humility the hard way," Edo heard himself state, the words far away, and Manjoume laughed at that. His grey eyes rose, finding Edo's own.  _

_ "Oh? Are you foolish enough to include my great self in that category?" _

_ Edo snorted, meeting the challenge easily. "'Great self,' is it? Let's not forget which one of us is on the top of the dueling world. I'll be generous and give you a hint -- it's  _ not  _ you, Thunder." _

_ Manjoume showed more of his teeth, the haze over those irises suddenly gone. The grey shone. "You're the delusional one here. You're not on top of anything, Mr. Rank Ten." _

_ “Hm. Perhaps not yet,” Edo drawled out, and he had leaned in at some point, the clicks of the other patrons’ glasses fading even more, meshing more with the dull background to a far more interesting exchange. Manjoume’s next circle remained incomplete, his focus on Edo and changing the tilt of his proud, sharp features. Staring at Manjoume felt, strangely, like sinking the gauge of a motorcycle far into the red while he sped over an uneven, cracked road, aware that the slightest miscalculation would cost him. The danger pursued him and pushed closer and closer with each deep vibration of the road underneath him, of the machine that carried him. Only, it was so hard to stop, to cut that speed. _

_ It was fast enough to make his heartbeat spike. The rush stung in a way that was almost sweet. That proverbial needle could twitch further to the right, couldn’t it? Manjoume’s gaze cut into him, blatant in how analytical it was. His eyelashes were so dark. _

_ “Then again, I’m going to change all of that very soon,” Edo replied, an arrogant whisper that made Manjoume’s smirk deepen. The crash was inevitable. He could feel his own control begin to fray, scream, and then snap. The backdrop of the bar had been exchanged for that of a hotel elevator, the lights all too bright, and yet the gleam in Manjoume’s eyes when he growled and pushed Edo hard against the wall -- the prelude to Edo starting the first kiss -- surpassed them still.  _

\---

Surprisingly enough, they had managed to avoid talking about that certain, well, mishap for over six weeks, likely because Edo had not been within the same time zone as Manjoume for the last six weeks...or even on the same continent. It had also helped that, when he had woken up face-down on Manjoume’s hotel bed with his arms tangled in his own jacket and a migraine out in full force, the other duelist had been snoring away in a deep, deep sleep. 

If he had to classify the, well,  _ events  _ of that private afterparty, then Edo had only ‘made out’ with Manjoume Thunder before passing out for a while -- three hours of his life in Manjoume’s cramped hotel room that he would never get back. Never ever.

Such was life. It contained many plot twists and...annoyances. 

“-not our fault! R-Really!” blurted out the shrill voice of an Ojama. To his credit, Manjoume did answer in a more hushed way than the spirit, but the result was still boisterous enough to bounce around the labyrinth of hallways. All of what he said reached Edo clearly.

“How could you just  _ lose  _ him?! He’s wearing a purple riding kit! Do you see anything  _ else  _ purple in here?!”

Technically speaking, the motorcycle suit was a deep black with a purple finish and purple detailing by the arm and leg joints, but, hey, would a guy famous for dueling in a ripped, stained coat  _ really  _ understand such nuance? Evidently not.

“Man, can’t we just leave? I’m  _ tired _ ,” another Ojama whined, and then Manjoume ceased all efforts to be quiet, his yell a projectile that ricocheted down what little remained of that part of the hallway. He was less than five meters from Edo’s position.

“We could have  _ left  _ already if you hadn’t messed up!”

“W-Waah!! B-Boss!”

“Yeah, don’t yell at us! It wasn’t  _ our  _ idea to sneak in here anyways!”

“Also, like, how do you even know that this intruder’s going the right way? He could be searching for something totally random!”

Edo watched through a gap by the massive hinges and the bulk of the door as Manjoume -- a string of three Ojamas in tow and bobbing up and down like toys in water for a summer festival game -- walked right up to the safe without seeming to register that, well, it was a massive wall-spanning safe. And also open. 

It was a stunning display of situational awareness.

Manjoume, dressed in a grey suit with a patterned blue tie, continued his argument with the duel spirits, turning in place to level a finger at them.

“I’m only going to say this once, so use whatever’s left of your brains to  _ listen _ , got it?” he ground out at more of a whisper than before, thankfully. “We’re not leaving until I’ve fulfilled my promise that I made as Manjoume Thunder,  _ alright _ ? Stop acting like that’s not a big deal, because it is. It can’t be a coincidence that someone else is searching this place, but in the end,  _ we’re  _ going to be the ones leaving with the deck, not them. There’s a zero-percent chance of that happening while  _ I  _ draw breath.”

And, really, how could Edo resist that? 

“I’m afraid not. But, of course, if you want to fight me hand-to-hand over it, I’ll oblige you,” Edo drawled out, stepping to the side and taking a pointed step forward, into the open. 

Shrieking, the Ojamas took refuge behind their duelist, and even though Manjoume had yelped in surprise, he recovered more quickly than expected. His jaw tensed. His eyes flashed silver-white under the fluorescents. 

From years of testing himself against the underworlds of many cities, Edo recognized the look of someone unskilled but willing to fight hard, and Manjoume had it, those delicate, long-fingered hands clenched into fists.

The helmet had muffled his own voice, after all. The visor would be a cut of black over his features.

With a heavy sigh, Edo stepped into the proverbial fire. When the visor retracted, he had already schooled his expression into one suitable for the opening duel of a tournament -- smug, a bit mean. Effective at unsettling his opponents.

Manjoume’s shock was so  _ visible _ that he almost laughed -- Manjoume stepping back, flinching, and finally trying to control his own features, unsuccessfully. The Ojamas launched into many, many questions all at the same time, and without even glancing over, Manjoume struck out with one hand and swiped through all of them. Confetti littered the floor, the edges translucent. 

“E-Edo? What… What are you  _ doing  _ here?” was what he finally blurted out, and Edo arched his eyebrows before returning to the safe. Manjoume followed, dress shoes clicking on the tile and becoming soundless over the plush, red carpet.

“I was going to ask you the same thing,” Edo stated, which was a simple trap. 

That Manjoume immediately fell for.

“I was at a gig when the spirit from Champion Kayamor-sani’s legendary deck showed up, asking for my help. I met Kayamori-san at an event once. It was a few months before his retirement,” Manjoume explained with business-like efficiency. “That snake, it really hates leaving the deck, so all it told me was to find a building matching this description and go to the bottom level, where its stolen deck would be waiting.”

“...I suppose that makes sense,” Edo commented as he lifted the case up and put it on a nearby table -- white marble top, golden legs. Curled up, the spirit appeared to be asleep. At least, until Manjoume approached the pedestal himself. Two red eyes snapped open, a small pick tongue darting out in greeting. “Although, for a person like you to run into a secure building like this is… Let’s see… ‘Reckless’ is too forgiving. How about ‘idiotic’?”

It was difficult to take Manjoume’s ice-cold growl seriously when he was looking at the snake like it was a beat-up Ojama in the middle of a high-stakes duel. Thunder wore his sympathy so openly that Edo almost pitied him for it.

“Look, just consider my perspective. When I  _ finally  _ found the right building, the first thing I saw was someone sneaking into it. This deck, it could be sold for… Never mind. The point is, I thought that a random guy in a motorcycle outfit was going to take it.”

“Yeah! No one else can take it before we do! ‘Cause that means Thunder’ll be in the good graces of a famous person,” Ojama Yellow -- resilient enough to appear again, a bandage slapped over his forehead -- announced, and Manjoume promptly flattened him between two palms.

“Y-You  _ imbecile _ … I-It’s not like  _ that _ ,” Manjoume whispered under his breath, and the snake, as if to provide support, wiggled its way up his wrist.

“Well, you are right about one thing.” Edo observed as he opened his vest and took out the replica deck. “The guy in the motorcycle outfit  _ is  _ going to take the deck.”

Edo did an excellent job of _ not _ giving into the honed reflexes that screamed at him to drop Manjoume and his cheap suit to the ground when two clawed hands were suddenly gripping his arm, holding him still. “W-What are you doing?! That deck belongs to Kayamori-san!”

“You need to pay more attention to how things change in the dueling world,” Edo replied, his tone cheerful as if he was filming for a commercial. It was just as controlled, too. There wasn’t time for any of this, after all. “That deck, it now belongs to-”

A click.

The distant click of a shoe over the tiled floor outside. 

No, they were not alone.

\---


	2. Incidental

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> O-Heroes: Judai calls the Ojamas the 'O-Heroes' in season 2, during his duel v. White Thunder.

\---

Edo slapped a hand over Manjoume’s mouth, switched the decks in a blur of a motion, shoved the real one into his vest pocket, and-

Damn it.

The rustle of that lone person approaching was too loud. Making it outside the vault without being exposed would be impossible, and, shoving Manjoume behind him, Edo took up a position in the corner left to the open door. The bulky sculpture next to them would provide some cover, maybe enough for an ambush. Although, it was doubtful that Manjoume’s ‘jilted rich boy’ act would be very helpful in a physical alteration. If he stay hidden, Edo could deal with the incoming problem without distractions.

Edo lowered his visor. When he had let go of Manjoume, the other duelist had remained quiet, thankfully.

The snake spirit was currently biting at his fingers, as if to protest that its precious deck was  _ not  _ being transported with the ‘one and only’ Manjoume Thunder.

Despite being flattened into a fine paste mere seconds ago, Ojama Yellow had not left for very long. Edo discovered this when the spirit popped into his line of sight and then twirled enthusiastically. Ojama Yellow had added a white-on-red polka dot bonnet to his ensemble.

“Hey! It’s Mr. Judai! That- Gah!” Going pale, the Ojama hurried over to a widely blinking Manjoume, who seemed to have been stunned into silence. So had Edo but, hey, he was hiding it better. “H-He’s a deck thief!! R-Remember! He took us Ojamas that one time with the, like, Society of Light stuff!”

Ojama Black, who had also not left for long at all, piped up from behind Manjoume’s shoulder. “G-Get him, Boss!”

“...Didn’t your ‘boss’ steal Misawa Daichi’s deck in the past?” Edo asked while those steps closed in, almost passing over the threshold. The Ojamas proceeded to argue with each other. Manjoume, although he had moved out of the corner, stayed by the wall, almost hesitant. Wary. Like Edo, he was probably still caught in the wake of that information, because ever since graduation, Yuki Judai only made a point of appearing when a situation was already out of control or, the second option, about to go out of control. In a big way.

To the best of his knowledge, the most recent incident where Judai had tried to retrieve some missing cards had ended with over fifty arrests and the collapse of two major companies connected to a card-forging ring.

Yuki Judai, despite being a publicist's nightmare, somewhere managed to get away with it time and time again. He would show up, try to correct an obvious problem, stumble into an impossible situation, and then parkour his way out of it, so to speak. Edo also knew that Judai had called in others like O’Brien and Johan on occasion for backup. It was something of a shame, actually, that his own schedule rarely put himself and Judai in the same city, as the rare times when the two of them had faced an enemy together were memorable. Exhilarating. Pure adrenaline.

Judai’s deck with its many heroes would alternate between challenging villains and inspiring those same people to change. Seeing it in action, watching Judai play at his very best, made Edo want to keep going in his own way. His own potential had yet to be realized, and he’d gladly duel Judai anytime if that other hero-user forgot that simple truth.

In short, Judai’s ‘journey to find himself’ had produced...interesting results. If anything, he was just more ‘Judai’ than before, in that he was someone who Edo usually found himself grinning at fondly or rolling his eyes over in pure exasperation. Well, sometimes he did both.

In a helpful move, Ojama Yellow’s outburst has also stopped him from trying to ambush one of the few people who, admittedly, he would rather not fight hand-to-hand outside a sparring match. Those supernatural powers did complicate things. With a bright chirp, Winged Kuriboh flew through the wall and peered down at them. To avoid a misunderstanding, Edo raised his visor again.

Winged Kuriboh’s next energetic chirp was the precursor to Judai making a joke. Edo knew that.

“Hey, are you guys throwing a tournament in here or something? ...Ah, I’m feeling a bit left out, since no one invited me,” was what Judai drawled as he walked inside the vault and leaned his hip against the metal doorframe, crossing his arms over his chest.

Unlike the last time they had run into each other, Judai was not sporting a camo jacket that was roughly 50% holes and had a suspicious number of burn marks on the right sleeve (Judai could, as it turned out, shoot fireballs like Yubel, only he tended to ruin his clothes in the process). Rather, the grey windbreaker worn over his black turtleneck looked extremely new, in that it didn’t yet bear the trademark tears in the back from Judai taking flight (another Yubel-enhanced feature, naturally).

While Edo hadn’t visited the Marufuji brothers in a while due to his schedule, he  _ suspected  _ that the jeans Judai wore had once belonged to a school-aged Ryo. The symbol on the front pocket meant that they were the Kaiser’s favorite brand.

Yes, the Dark World had been a stressful, hellish experience overall, but it had also given him a lot of time to be bored, bother the Hell Kaiser, and learn all the useless trivia he had ever wanted to about the Marufujis. As it was, if he ever got either of them in a secret santa exchange, he would be set, no problem. He could easily cover the Tenjouin siblings as well.

...Anyways.

Edo cleared his throat. They needed to move, after all. The night wouldn’t last forever, and he had no intention to spend the remainder of it locked inside some greedy businessman’s collection room when he  _ should  _ have been lounging in a luxury penthouse and watching superheroes pose dramatically on a TV screen bigger than a tank. 

“I doubt that my manager would approve any matches between myself and Thunder anytime soon, owing to the current difference in our skill levels.”

“W-What?! Hold on, you overstuffed piece of-”

“More importantly,” Edo said, leaving Manjoume to grumble in the background, “this location isn’t the most, let’s say,  _ convenient  _ for a reunion, Judai. Now would be a good time to make our escape.”

“Hmm…  _ True _ , but…” Judai trailed off, his grin turning sheepish. “Since the vault’s already open, I should take a second to look for the White Snake Deck first, which...I’m guessing is in here…” That last comment was made with a cursory glance at Edo’s right hand, which was currently being devoured by that little spirit. Edo rolled his eyes.

“I’ve already retrieved it. The counterfeit is on the pedestal already.” He had already moved to replace the glass case, thus eliminating an obvious sign that the decks had been switched, when Judai blurted out something that made Edo roll his eyes again, harder this time.

“Oh, neat. We can sort this out in the parking lot, buuuut those cards will need to come with me, so…”

Manjoume took that moment to remind them all that he was still here. 

“W-What?! No, that’s  _ not  _ the case, slacker. I’m returning these cards to their rightful owner!”

“...Also known as myself, by the way,” Edo added, checking that the case was secure. Manjoume scoffed, a scowl twisting his features. 

Judai, being Judai, sounded far too confident when he cut in with, “Uh, for the record, the actual owner is the founder of the Snake-Bite Dueling Style. This Kayamori guy stole the deck when he was a student, and he’s blackmailed the master for decades to keep this whole thing quiet. ...It’s really destroyed the whole school.”

Edo felt his face twitch. Turning, he stared at Judai. “Kayamori-san told me that the deck had been given to him for mastering the Snake-Bite Style.”

Judai answered immediately, his smile more apologetic than before. “Yeah, about that… Kayamori isn’t as honorable as he pretends to be. The master, his theory is that Kayamori donated the deck for the sake of some good press, since he’s not dueling with it anymore.”

Edo grit his teeth.

No, Judai was not lying. They knew each other well enough to be past misunderstandings like that. Winged Kuriboh, hovering by the ceiling, hooted softly, and Edo slowly,  _ slowly  _ stepped back from the pedestal, running through a breathing exercise that he normally did after sparring. Or smashing his knuckles against a punching bag in the early hours of the morning when he couldn’t sleep.

Okay.

“I’ll...schedule a meeting with Kayamori-san to discuss this personally,” Edo said as neutrally as he possibly could, and Judai’s eyebrows shot up. The Ojamas cowered inside Manjoume’s suit jacket. Manjoume himself then said something very embarrassing. 

“Edo, I’ll come with you.”

Edo breathed out, his shoulders dropping, and when he leveled a glare at Manjoume, those grey eyes met his own, unflinching. “You need to do something about your misplaced confidence. As your senior in the pro league, I don’t require the backup of my junior for a simple meeting.”

“If what Judai says is true, then this… This... _ bastard _ ,” Manjoume shot out, his upper lip curling, “has been running around for  _ decades  _ lying to the people who supported him. I-It affects all of us! As pros, how can we be expected to… To just  _ ignore  _ this?!”

“I’m not ignoring it,” Edo responded, and while Manjoume did back down  _ slightly _ , it was apparent that this argument had just been paused. Focusing, he addressed the group again, and Judai’s stare was one that Edo associated with him during a duel, observing as his opponent played new cards. It...meant something, something there wasn’t the time to untangle right now. “In case it’s not already clear to you all, we’re currently standing inside a vault the size of a small apartment and, also, wasting a lot of time.”

“Edo’s got a point,” Judai said. 

Manjoume tossed his head to the side, scoffing. “Whatever. He’s also got a snake trying to bite his hand off.”

“...Now Manjoume’s got a point,” Judai declared with a wry grin, and the serpent wiggled enthusiastically, hanging off Edo’s palm. “Guess this little fellow isn’t a fan of the Destiny Heroes… How about making an, err, exchange before we get going?”

“Giving the deck to the person most likely to be caught on the way out would be a mistake,” was Edo’s reply, one he smirked through, and Judai badly stifled a laugh. 

“I’ll only be  _ caught  _ if you lead us into the guards,” Manjoume grumbled, which was not true. Before he could say that much and then drag both of these rivals outside, Judai made an observation. 

“Did...you guys have a bad duel or something?”

Straightening, Edo dusted off the already-clean front of his vest. “The last time I dueled Thunder, a certain producer was still actively trying to ruin my career. Does that answer your question?”

“Uh… You two just seem a little…” Judai paused, concentrating, and because nothing made Manjoume flail around and yell  _ quite  _ like the subject of Yuki Judai, it was miraculous that he had stayed quiet at all. Slashing at the air, Manjoume stalked forward, almost bumping into Judai and making the hero duelist awkwardly step back.

“Who are  _ you  _ to comment on that, huh?! You  _ still  _ owe me a duel after, what, over a year?! So, how can you even dare to talk about  _ my  _ great dueling style or dueling career? Honestly, what have you-?”

“You guys just seem tense!” Judai blurted out, making Manjoume snarl, grab Judai’s jacket, and viciously shake him. 

“I’ll show you tense! You...slacker!”

“H-Hey!”

Edo sighed, feeling like the oldest one in the room by far. A decade, at least. “I don’t know why you’re putting up with this,” was his comment to Judai, which Manjoume intercepted. Whirling around, he leveled a finger at Edo, and Edo eyed it skeptically. 

Sure, Thunder. Like  _ that’s  _ actually a threat.

“Why are  _ you  _ putting up with this loudmouth going off about what he doesn’t even  _ understand _ ?! Huh? What, have you given up your pride, ‘oh great Edo  _ Phoenix _ ’?”

And-

It was only because Manjoume -- jabbing his finger against Edo’s chest once -- had moved in so closely like that.

It was the only reason he thought back to that damn night.

\---

_ “Tch. Come on. You’re not going to be the top of  _ anything  _ with such a passive attitude,” was what Manjoume, languid as he leaned against the mirrored wall of the elevator with his wild hair falling over his eyes, slurred out at him. Somehow they had gotten here. And, somehow, Edo was the one stalking closer, putting one hand on either side of Manjoume’s shoulders, and letting a smug grin spread across his face. Why they were on this subject again? He couldn’t explain it. Why he  _ let  _ Manjoume make a critique like that without striking back in earnest? It didn’t matter. _

_ “Oh? You’re saying that I, someone higher than you in this competitive world, am lacking something? That’s…” Pausing, he left Manjoume there, waiting for him. The eye contact made his thoughts rush faster, aimless as they were. He was throwing himself at full speed down a dangerous road, drawn in by the sight of Manjoume’s shirt collar against his skin, his neck. “That’s very bold of you, Thunder. Perhaps you need a...demonstration of just how strong my will really is.” _

_ With a deep, vibrating growl, Manjoume surged forward, grabbed at Edo’s wrists, and reversed their positions, although Edo could have broken away. He could have so damn easily, but it was more fun to watch Manjoume’s eyes go wide and glassy and explosion-bright when he leaned in and used his mouth to- _

_ \--- _

Edo caught himself before he could stand there for a suspiciously long time, acting as a mannequin for Manjoume of all people to boss around. A retort would have been effortless. He could have left Manjoume flustered from a single insult, but-

But there were more pressing matters.

Namely, the fact that when he turned his head, there was a new span of metal -- the inside of the door -- over where the gap to wondrous, wondrous freedom had once been. 

“I hope neither of you had any plans for this evening,” was how Edo announced it, the lightness of his voice at odds with the grimace that had to be turning his face in something decidedly unfriendly. Judai broke out the daze that seemed to have overtaken him, and he chuckled while Manjoume, the demolitionist for their group, sputtered in place. The Ojamas were complete and utter despair, wailing at an uncomfortable volume.

“So… Anyone...wanna talk about Duel Monsters?” Judai asked while Manjoume walked forward and banged his forehead once against the closed safe door. It made a dull ‘thud’.

“I...take that as a ‘no’?” Judai asked, Manjoume hit his head again, and Edo rolled his eyes. Ah, life.

Life could be a bastard sometimes.

\---

“W-Why did it even  _ close _ ?! How does that just  _ happen _ ?!” 

“I mean, doors are designed to do that.”

“Ha ha, smart ass,” Manjoume spat out, and Judai, impervious, laughed. “How come  _ you  _ didn’t notice? Are your ‘Yubel powers’  _ that  _ weak?!”

“I...was thinking.”

“You picked the  _ worst  _ possible time to start doing that.”

“Hey, at least we’re ‘safe’ in here!”

“F-Fuck you!”

“It’s likely that the door closed as part of some anti-theft protocol,” Edo stated as he continued to adjust the settings on his radio. “If the owner were here, he could simply open the door again using that keypad over there.”

“So… Why are we still stuck?” Manjoume asked, in full rich-brat mode: arms crossed, gaze haughty. Edo, the only one actively trying to secure an escape plan, saved the current settings and tried the receiver again. He left Manjoume hanging for just long enough that it became, well, funny. “A-Are you-?!”

“The device I used to open the lock outside wasn’t designed to open the model of the one in here. There’s no retinal scanner, for one thing. Worse than simply not working, it could actually set off an alarm. Therefore, I wouldn’t try it unless it was a last resort,” Edo said, and- Hearing static, he held up the small radio to his ear. “Emeralda?”

“- _ do _ ?”

“I’ll make this quick. I need you to come retrieve me.” 

_ “Okay. Where are you?” _

There was no subtle way to put this, and Edo, indulging in a grin at the impartial radio, said the stupid, stupid words. “I’m currently inside the safe with my colleague Manjoume Jun and our mutual friend Yuki Judai.”

Despite the static, he could plainly hear Emeralda take a deep, steadying breath. He could relate to that.

_ “I’ll need to clone the device. I estimate retrieval in three hours, twenty minutes.” _

The startled ‘ _ What?!’  _ in the background was from Manjoume, Judai only running a hand through his bangs and humming at Winged Kuriboh.

“Okay. I’ll see you then. Over and out.” With a sharp click, the static ended, and he clipped the radio to the side of his suit. He unzipped the vest and shrugged it off, his smile turning amused. “At least there are chairs in here. While I don’t want to compliment this Kayamori Kosuge, I find myself appreciating his taste in interior design more and more.”

“I-Is this a joke to you?” Manjoume snapped as he followed Edo to the back of the room, Edo taking the grandest of the chairs there and dropping his vest and helmet onto the marble coffee table placed across from it. The various clasps of the vest clacked against the surface, the helmet making its own ‘bang’, and Manjoume badly suppressed a wince. After sliding off his gloves, Edo started on the tight collar of the hand-me-down suit.

“We might as well make ourselves comfortable until Emeralda arrives. Or, trouble. ...I almost wouldn’t mind some trouble arriving right now.”

“Typical for a hero user to say that,” Manjoume grumbled, and Edo watched as he sank into the opposite chair -- not as grand as his own but still a mess of ornate golden details and overdesigned patterns -- and then put his scuffed-up dress shoes on the table. Edo switched targets, lolling his head back until Judai’s profile was visible. The other duelist seemed lost in thought again, although his amber irises still had that not-quite-human focus to them. 

“Judai.”

Blinking, he snapped out of it. “Uh, what’s up?”

“You should station a few of your heroes in the hallway as lookouts, just in case.”

“...Oh, right. Uh, one sec.”

Taking out his deck, Judai studied the card on top before sorting through the five or so underneath. Blurred figures began to appear behind him -- Neos, Aqua Dolphin, Air Hummingbird. In a flash, they were gone, and Judai returned his deck to that brown holster with duct tape on the corners. He gave Edo a thumbs up. And then he winked.

“It’s good having heroes around in a pinch, isn’t it?”

“Yeah,  _ really  _ helpful,” was the sarcastic drawl from Manjoume, looking even more rumpled than before. The effect was strengthened by the simple fact that all of his suit jackets were slightly too big, as if to make his skinny frame seem broader than it was. The fabric hung off his bowed shoulders. His hands dug into his forehead.

“Ah, don’t worry. Your deck can be a hero deck too, Thunder, After all, your Ojamas count as the O-Heroes,” was what Judai piped up with, and the ill-timed joke made Edo grin. Ah, Judai. Really, that was not the right approach at all.

“Yeah,  _ sure _ , because  _ that’s  _ something for me to worry about when we’re, oh, well, trapped in a secret underground bunker for the next three hours,  _ estimated _ !”

“I mean… I could open the door, if we really needed to,” Judai said, and Edo had to laugh at that. 

“Judai, I’m sorry to inform you that this is one problem that cannot be solved by dueling it or setting it on fire.”

Strolling over at an easy pace, Judai flopped onto the couch next to the marble table, immediately stretching out his arms far over his head until something made a disturbing, wet ‘crack’. “Ah, it’s not like that. I could use the Gentle Darkness to make one of my spirits real and have them help us out. Like, when it comes to a battle between Yubel the Ultimate Nightmare and a door, I’m betting on Yubel each and every time. Or… Hey! How about Grand Neos? He could use his drill to-”

“No,” Manjoume interjected.

“-get us out of here. Or… I could let Sparkman zap the panel. It might just open on its own.”

“H-Haven’t you learned  _ anything  _ about restraint?! The  _ building  _ might collapse, or the security would-”

Judai raised one hand, his smile broad. “Oh, I have. That’s why I’m just talking about these strategies and not actually doing them.”

“You’re...insufferable.”

“Huh. I’m pretty sure I’ve heard that from you before,” Judai commented, his wink for Manjoume this time, and, finally, the Ojama duelist lost his nerve. With a bitter scowl, Manjoume took out his phone (which would not have reception) and started to jab at it with his thumbs.

That was how the waiting game began: Manjoume devoting all of his attention to his phone, Edo silently appreciating that, and Judai lounging as if his very life depended on it. With his eyes closed and his expression lax, unbothered, he could have tricked a less observant person into believing that he was dead asleep. 

Although Judai had, evidently, buzzed the hair on the back of his head short since the last time they had met up, his bangs and the long strands to the sides had only become less tamed, less uniform. The falls of those irregular, chestnut-brown strands accentuated the tapered, almost-feline qualities of his adult features. Or, more accurately, his post-fusion features. 

The hands that Judai had loosely tangled together behind his head -- over a section of where his hair was short and almost obedient -- were marked with light scratches, bruises over his knuckles, and one cheerful pink Band-Aid. 

That last time, Edo had been out at night and trying to clear his head. At the unmistakable clang of metal on metal, he had taken off at a full sprint, pursued the continuing noises of that struggle, and found Yuki Judai -- a broken pipe in hand to parry the incoming blows -- having a crowbar swung at him by the very recognizable and equally notorious card thief. Edo had spared Judai the challenge of trying  _ not  _ to hurt this particular fool by making a calculated strike, dropping his opponent, and using the cable ties in his pocket as restraints.

And, well, it had been a nice evening.

Maybe it was because Judai had been there with him for the peak in that struggle against the Light of Destruction, those rays twisting and warping a friend who he held close to his heart for so long. Maybe it was because he had seen Judai in those raw moments after the persona of the Supreme King had been driven out. Or maybe it was simply because they were, underneath it all, two hero duelists.

Regardless, Judai was someone who he caught himself speaking to causally, without any weight behind his sarcastic remarks. And yet, that connection was different than the one he shared with Saiou. With Saiou, Edo still wanted to hold an umbrella over him so often when trouble began to gather, to stand at his side when the first drops thickened and fell. With Judai, it felt more like as the clouds darkened, they would run together, racing the whole way, for the cover of the trees and then laugh shamelessly together when the torrent came. It would be too slow to catch even their shadows, and there...was a thrill in that. 

Judai tilted his head back even further, the longest of his bangs slipping over the narrow bridge of his nose. Edo decided to break the silence. It felt almost like getting the first turn in a duel and setting the pace, throwing up the first lines of attack and defense and then seeing what, if any, the counter would be.

“Judai, does the Kaiser know that you’re wearing his pants?”

When Manjoume’s dropped phone hit the marble table, the impact made the case fly off and almost hit one of the glass displays, the Ojama duelist gaping at the decoration-turned-projectile. While he scrambled for the pieces, Judai blinked at the both of them and then threw Edo one of his loose, easy grins, his eyes above shimmering orange-teal. 

“Let’s...just say that when I demonstrated Yubel’s fire powers for the Marufujis, things...got a little too hot. Literally. ...Directly.” Shrugging, he ran his clasped hands over the crown of his head, messing up his hair even more. “Still, it was pretty cool that they had some spare stuff lying around for me.”

“Mooch,” was Manjoume’s whispered comment as he rammed the case back over his last-gen phone. Judai’s grin only widened at that.

“Ah, come on. Don’t these jeans look good on me? What do you think,  _ Thunder _ ?”

Instead of a coherent answer, Manjoume stammered, turned more than a little red, and focused again on the case. Edo noticed all of it, because a tactician in the professional world gained the greatest advantage by observing others. In this one area, Manjoume Jun was remarkably consistent.

To say that Manjoume had been carrying a ‘torch’ for Judai since their schooldays would have been inaccurate. Rather, Manjoume had been carrying the equivalent of a billboard that read ‘I, Manjoume Jun, have a big, uncontrollable crush on the person who I treat as a rival as a convenient excuse to be around him and seek out his attention’. It was, of course, pathetic, especially because Manjoume seemed to operate under the assumption that any of this was a secret to not-Judai people. That factor alone meant-

Edo straightened, catching himself before his thoughts could turn entirely undisciplined.

Especially because Judai was observing him, that keen gaze bordered with vivid orange and teal.

“Well, you’re the one who brought this up, Edo, so now it’s your turn. Rate my style.”

“What style?”

Snorting, Judai shook his head. “Ha, okay. Good one. I walked right into that, didn’t I?”

“If  _ this  _ is the quality of your banter, then this night is going to feel very, very long,” Edo stated, Judai feigning a wince while Manjoume muttered something under his breath. A beat passed, and when Judai blinked, that analytical,  _ serious  _ glint to his stare had strengthened even further. It was at odds with how he, cat-like, stretched out on that elaborate couch. 

“Okay,” Judai drawled, “so if we’re all bored, then how about a threeway?”

"I believe the dueling term you're looking for is 'Battle Royale,'" was Edo's deadpan response, because he was not making distressed choking noises and dropping his phone yet-again like a certain dark-haired duelist with a penchant for zero-attack monsters. Instead, he had already clamped down on his own visible reaction. And yet, it already seemed like a wasted effort.

This was Judai, after all.

With a knowing grin, Judai gave the cheery reply of, "Oh, that'd be fun too."

"You should have learned by now that pros choose their duels carefully. Or, in Thunder's case, that's what they're  _ supposed  _ to do."

"Ah, come on," Judai chided. "What's better than a duel to pass the time?"

"A crash course in opening electronic safes," Edo replied, and he shared a grin with Judai over the reminder that, yes, this was actually the situation -- his own grin had a lot more judgement behind it, Judai's carefree and showing off his boyish dimples. 

"Point to Phoenix. Buuuut… A duel is a duel."

"I suppose so," Edo said. It was all the encouragement Judai needed to continue on. And also to artlessly drag the conversation back to that one topic.

"Yah know, sometimes it's good to just...duel it out. Let the cards do the talking. ...Right, Thunder? ...Thunder?"

“I think he’s trying to summon a denizen of the underworld,” Edo observed, given that Manjoume -- his head in his hands, the image of self-imposed despair -- was chanting to himself with enough vigour for it to be...concerning. Vaguely so. 

Judai sat up. “Err… Thunder?”

“-moronwhoactslikenothingeven _ happened _ when… Damn it!” Jumping to his feet, Manjoume slashed at the air, his grimace only getting deeper with each bitten-off word. In a rash move, he had decided to make Edo the target of this misguided rant. “You’re making my  _ skin  _ crawl, acting so fucking... _ cool _ . You know, up until now, I was playing nice, but… Your fucking attitude is so…  _ So _ ...”

“Skin crawl…? I’m...pretty sure Edo doesn’t have fleas or something, like Pharaoh might,” Judai -- the epitome of ‘clueless’ at that very moment -- wondered aloud, and Manjoume made a grinding, whining noise that was better-suited for an overstressed machine than a person. If Edo remembered correctly, then the chubby mascot of the Silfer Red dorm was rooming with Kenzan while Judai continued that role as a traveling duelist.

“Does...it... _ sound _ ...like...I’m...talking...about...your... _ cat _ ?!”

“Uh, no, but I’m kinda lost here, so-”

Edo took a deep breath.

“Thunder.” 

That really was all it took. Teeth flashing, Manjoume went still, and Edo had held the gaze of hundreds -- thousands, more accurately -- of professional duelists who had wanted nothing more than to publicly throttle him through the medium of cardgames. A glare was nothing new, and slowly, Edo felt himself ease more into this role, that of a self-assured victor. 

He had already decided how this would end. Repeating a mistake would be foolish, after all.

“There’s nothing to discuss. That ‘skin crawling’ feeling is very much a, ah, ‘ _ you _ ’ problem and less of a ‘me’ problem. Is that simple enough for you to follow? Or do I need to make a colour-coded diagram to get this across?” Edo drawled out, arching an eyebrow, and of course Manjoume stormed across the room, took the farthest possible seat away from them, and then raised a middle finger like a flag of an entirely pathetic ruler: a ruler over just a few startled Ojamas and that persistent snake, coiled now over one arm of that chair.

“Uh…”

“It won’t last long,” he said to Judai, and the other hero user glanced at him for a beat, expression blank. “Maybe without the distractions that inevitably follow Manjoume Thunder, we will think of a faster way out of here.”

“...Not sure I agree with that,” Judai replied, but he didn’t continue from there, his attention shifting again to the back of Manjoume’s turned-around chair. He fidgeted, Winged Kuriboh floating over his shoulder with a worried ‘ _ coo _ ’, and yet...that was all. Edo did not breathe a sigh of relief, as that would be unfitting for this situation. He had never been in danger of revealing anything, and while Manjoume was a human-shaped bundle of TNT, even he wouldn’t be so thoughtless as to just carelessly say it. Not under these circumstances.

Not with Judai there, existing as the object of all those long-suffering glances and thoughts from a rival who for years had not wanted to  _ really  _ be a rival. 

It wasn’t just for his own sake that Edo defined that night as a mistake. 

Maybe, with a bit of time, it would become funny, just a one-off thing between two drunk pros. Those situations happened. They were common, if gossip carried any value.

He knew that, eventually, the image of Manjoume under those hazy barlights would fade even more, as would the knowledge he had of how, when pressed down, Manjoume would gasp out in a way that he couldn’t even begin to describe, the sound of it making Edo’s mind just hurl itself faster and faster towards the perilous, wonderful dark of an unknown want.

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thunder: my boy's under a lot of stress. him yelling was inevitable. it's...fine.
> 
> Premise: this premise is very silly but it also speaks to me personally.


	3. Incremental

\---

That was how the sequel to the waiting game began. 

Edo would give it a better review than the first one, since he found an unread crime novel buried in the downloads folder of his phone and managed to use up twenty minutes by scrolling through the first couple of chapters, picking out the clues as he went, and then rolling his eyes at the main character -- supposedly a detective, although evidently not a _good_ one -- being a confused, bumbling mess by the midpoint of the story. Without reception, his personal phone lacked its usually utility as a tool for him to check tokusatsu forums and indulge himself in sneering at the many, many dumb comments.

Well, he used his phone for either _that_ or reading saved articles on, say, quantum mechanics or field theory. While the validity of his degrees should have been apparent, variety show hosts and the like still seemed to take an inordinate amount of satisfaction in throwing jargon-filled questions at him every couple of months or so, as if he would stumble over an answer. Which he never did.

Again, being a prodigy has its advantages.

Flicking a pale lock of hair behind one ear, he read one final sentence of detective-themed confusion before turning the screen off and pocketing his phone again. Letting the battery drop too low wouldn’t be wise, since Manjoume was still fuming in the corner and would explode later that night. A distraction would be welcomed then.

“Hey, Edo.”

Judai had returned to his stretched-out, taking-up-the-entire-couch pose, only with his jacket balled up below his head and his hands crossed over his stomach. Despite the high collar, his shirt cut off at his biceps, his bare arms showing the usual collection of small dings and scrapes -- nothing deep or serious, of course. Most had likely been caused by Judai’s own heroics rather than enemies. 

“Yes?”

Peering at him with one eye, the other closed and half-hidden by his unruly bangs, Judai continued on in that same carefree tone. “‘Remember when we met up in July?”

“If by July, you mean June…”

“...Really? ‘Could’ve sworn it was July,” Judai mumbled, and with a toothy grin, he shrugged. “Whenever it was, it turned out to be a good time, didn’t it?”

“Hm. I would agree with that, aside from that part where I was picking glass out of my hair for well over an hour.”

“Ha. Well, that was...not intentional…”

“Intentional or not, you _were_ directly involved in that...incident,” Edo observed, and he almost laughed when Judai did. After all, that ‘incident’ was ridiculous, over-the-top, and a perfect example of why the occasional dull workday could benefit from Yuki Judai crashing through a window while trying to escape some ancient-stone-statue-granted-life-by-a-malicious-entity. The part where Judai almost crashed into _him_ had been...less than ideal, Edo’s own reflexes taking him away from the ‘impact zone’, as it were.

Apparently, Judai had assumed that the dilapidated warehouse on the outskirts of Domino City was empty and therefore a prime location to have at it with that crumbling gargoyle-like opponent. 

Apparently, Judai had also missed the many vans and cars strewn outside, since a photoshoot did require equipment and personnel. At least two of those vans had been strewn with decals of Edo’s name, logo, and face.

The photoshoot had meant to feature Edo standing alone in that vast, empty space with only a single shaft of light to illuminate him, the marketing team insisting on it being ‘deeply symbolic’, and his agency _did_ get the shot they wanted, eventually. There had been a necessary interlude where he had directed the staff to a safer location, returned to the warehouse, and provided that intruder a close demonstration of his right hook, cracking the armor over its torso. Using the break in the action, Judai had fumbled with some bronze artifact and, finding the right combination of turned-dials, used it to return that creature to a conveniently inanimate state. 

Few alumni from Duel Academia had taken to adulthood quite the way that Judai did. Namely, the vast majority of them did not consider rumors about ghosts, spirits, demons, and the like to be equivalent to a calling card, or an invitation with a big, red bow on it. As it were, it did seem very advantageous that Judai, using Yubel’s scales, could brush off crashing through a window like the average person would gently bumping into a glass door.

In Edo’s opinion, it was all...cool. Really damn cool.

“I had expected some ‘difficulties’ from the staff seeing your wings, the monster, and the damage to the warehouse,” Edo admitted, leaning back and crossing his arms with a suitable regality for this over-the-top room. “Although, it’s somewhat disappointing how quickly they just accepted that a malfunctioning Solid Vision system was the culprit.”

Judai snorted. “That excuse never gets old.”

“I suppose that it _should_ work in Domino City, of all places.”

“Ha, yeah... Hey, do you remember what we did after the cleanup?”

Yes, he did.

This entire conversation had been the set-up for one of Judai’s schemes, and Edo, giving him a closed-mouth smile, wanted Judai to see that he had realized this. Judai’s expression remained immovable -- bright, beaming, and with a clever edge underneath it all. 

“I remember the part where you passed out on my hotel room floor.”

“Hey, hey. It was late. Also, that carpet was better than most of the futons people lend me.”

“That says a lot more about the kinds of friends you keep than it does the quality of the hotel carpet.”

Toying with his bangs, Judai rolled his eyes and let Edo have that one. Although, he did not let go of the main point, his ‘win condition’ so to say. 

“Lying around in that crazy-expensive suite with you and watching that tournament was the best… _Especially_ because of the duelist we were following and cheering for. He really gets the crowd going…”

‘He’ was Manjoume, naturally.

\---

 _“-and… W-What?! More commercials?!” Groaning, Judai ran his hands over his face and flopped back onto the carpet, his shoulders falling against the couch, with the right one smacking Edo’s knee in that too-friendly, rough-housing sort of result that inevitably followed the combination of ‘Yuki Judai,’ himself, and a late hour. Using that same knee, Edo pushed him off, and Judai feigned falling over, complaining the entire time. “Ah, man… How do you put_ up _with this?”_

_“The matches I watch live are usually right in front of me, not on some pay-per-view channel,” Edo said while unwrapping a protein bar -- it was, as it turned out, possible to have eaten too many steaks for one lifetime. The fatty, over-seasoned room service food lying on every available surface was for his unplanned guest, who had been eager to ditch his original plan of sleeping under a random tree for the night._

_Or, more accurately, the empty plates where there_ had _been room service food were everywhere._

_“You gotta take more time off,” Judai drawled out next, tilting his head back and peering up at Edo, who had taken the normal-human option of sitting on the couch. “Watching duels on TV with snacks and a couple of friends is great, especially if the matches are close!"_

_“You were just complaining about the commercials, if I recall correctly.”_

_“...True,” Judai conceded, cringing a little. “Something usually goes...wrong before I have time to watch a tournament until the commercials come on.”_

_“I thought you were trying to be a cautious hero,” Edo said, a reprimand, and Judai answered him quickly, eyes gleaming copper-red despite the low light._

_“Don’t get me wrong. I’m not trying to take on any fights. I must’ve been cursed to never be able to finish watching a bracket when at a cafe or card store or whatever… It feels...very specific...”_

_“It’s rare to hear you of all people admitting to be ‘unlucky’.”_

_"Well…" Picking up a discarded soda, Judai held the can with a look of pure expectation until Edo -- heaving a sigh and reaching over to the side table -- found his water bottle. Clack. It was something like a toast, and Edo chuckled as he took a sip. "Here's to us making more time to watch duels live on TV!" Judai announced._

_"Some people give the dedication before clicking glasses," Edo observed, and Judai had clearly meant to give him a teasing comment in return, those eyes narrowing as his smile turned darker, competitive._

_The program interrupted that when it returned with a pulse of crowd noise, as did the announcers' declaration of who would be dueling next. Edo had been devoting most of his attention to tracking the plus-50 rank duelists in the pro league, given that they were the ones he faced down most often. Since their televised duel, he only ever ran into Manjoume backstage at a larger event or somewhere between the many tables, raised glasses, and jeweled guests typical of any gala._

_It had been quite some time since he had seen his former 'protégé' inside a dueling arena, and, tapping his fingers against the bottle, he eyed the screen and the announcers who took up most of it, the stadium an oval behind them. Like a cracked-open geode with the crowd as a ripple of colour._

_Rocking back and forth, Judai let out a wild cheer. "Ahhh! Oh man, it's been so long… You think he's still using that Ojama deck?"_

_"From what I've heard," Edo began, increasingly aware that the information was now months out of date, "he's trying out a dragon deck, to varying levels of success."_

_"I," Judai began, the word punctuated by him ripping into an unopened bag of chips, "can't_ wait _to find out what cards he's got in his deck."_

_"Let's hope for the sake of my reputation that he makes it to the quarterfinals, at least."_

_"Hmm… Guess we’re going to find out," Judai said with a quick look over at him, and then he, like Edo, focused on the program, a random thing that Judai had accidentally clicked on and Edo had seen no reason to change. It was already after 2AM -- he had planned on sleeping in the car to the airport tomorrow, which left in only a few hours. The adrenaline from the clash earlier had kept him buzzing, wired. Awake._

_The boom of theme music. The roar of an fueled crowd. The lights went down, and then a single spotlight found the challenger and followed his long, confident strides._

_Wreathed with searing white, Manjoume strutted out onto the waiting stage, a black coat flowing from his straight shoulders and ending in ragged, raw edges that swept the floor. Every aspect of him showed only arrogance, his grin a tapered sliver of white that Edo knew could become far, far more pleased than that, especially at the crescendo of his chant. Or in the face of genuine victory._

_Most things about Manjoume had not changed. His hairstyle still suggested that he had never encountered a comb in his entire life, much less used one. He wore that usual combination of dark jeans that had clearly seen better days with a high-collared shirt. This shirt -- the material thin, grey -- had a bulky zipper that ran down the front, the slider swinging as Manjoume pivoted in place to gaze out at the crowd, and-_

_And he was striking in a very new and very sudden way. The curve of his clavicle might have well been in fluorescent yellow for how it momentarily, mistakenly, dominated the white, grey, and black surrounding it. The dip at the center of it was steep. For someone who seemed to survive off of cup noodles and free hors d'oeuvres at parties, Manjoume had an unusually well-defined chest, as if being loud and demanding were traits that suddenly contributed to one's physical fitness. Edo...minded. It made no sense._

_It made no sense for the transition from the dome below Manjoume's ribcage down to his narrow waist -- the shapes crafted by muscle and bone traced by that piece of fanservice masquerading as a shirt -- to keep Edo's attention as long as it did, for as long as it_ would _have if he hadn't caught himself._

_Get a grip, Phoenix._

_Edo decided to blame the still-lingering adrenaline for why he had been quiet ever since Thunder had strode out to his ridiculous guitar-heavy theme music, with not even one sarcastic observation ready to be thrown out for Judai to counter. Whoever was behind that camera sure had a, well,_ penchant _for panning up from Manjoume’s out-of-date boots. Therefore, that cameraperson could take part of the blame as well._

_Edo worked out his tense jaw, and while, ideally, he never would have found himself completing a crash course on 'How to keep breathing after accidentally checking out Manjoume Thunder, of all people', life worked in mysterious ways. He had even completed the bonus module just now, which covered 'How to school your expression into something neutral while Yuki Judai, the person Manjoume Thunder is borderline obsessed with, leans his face against your knee.'_

_That was a thing Judai had started doing. The flickering lights from the TV cast shards of white-teal over his unruly hair. Judai's next question made him heave out of a sigh, because only Judai would stumble into such an inconvenient timing._

_"...Why does Thunder always wear his shirts so tight?" Judai wondered out loud._

_"I imagine that he's terrible at laundry."_

_Judai snorted, playful. "He's been into that style since we were at Duel Academia, and...I'm pretty sure he dueled Sho into washing his shirts back then."_

_Typical._

_Edo watched the announcers fumble their way through an interview with the Ojama-user himself, and then he said, "Maybe Thunder's trying to get someone's attention, unconsciously or not."_

_"...Like...Asuka?"_

_Feeling a_ bit _like Manjoume had somehow recruited him as a wingman from a thousand kilometers away, Edo took a deep breath and indulged in a glare at the TV. Urgh._

_"Yes. Because the younger Tenjouin sibling is the only duelist known for using monsters with skin-tight ensembles."_

_Judai -- who didn't seem to recognize the hint there, like a stubborn videogame player swiping away the tutorial that would've nicely, simply explained everything and circumvented a lot of future misunderstandings -- just shrugged and leaned more against Edo's leg. It wasn't only his knee anymore. One of Judai's arms rested over his thigh. Clever fingers idly picked at the fabric of his slacks._

_"Ah, why's there so much waiting before the duel?" Judai whined._

_"There will be more waiting than this. And another round of commercials."_

_"Urgh…"_

_Although, predictably, Judai's annoyance at the commercials could not overcome his hype for the duel, and soon he was shaking Edo by whatever limb was closest and giving him those big, toothy grins all the while. The light from the TV made Judai's already-supernatural eyes gleam even more than usual, a glassy blue over the deep copper and its iridescent pigments. After Manjoume had, with the confident turn of a trap that eviscerated his opponent's front line, taken his first duel of the night, Edo noticed that his palm had somehow moved to Judai's shoulders, just resting there. Existing, taking up space._

_...Okay._

_If Judai were, say, quite a bit taller, had a head of exceptionally silky hair, and also named 'Saiou Takuma', then none of this would have been surprising, as Edo’s friend had the uncanny ability to ease his barriers down, which he did appreciate on nights where he would've otherwise been tense and very alone. And, yes, it had been quite a long time since he and Saiou had been in the same room and shared their thoughts over a cup of tea and then sat out to watch the stars, his head finally drifting onto Saiou's shoulder as that unique calm cocooned them both._

_But there wasn't a pathetic, duplicitous reason behind why he had let himself stay close to Judai like this. Rather, it just...made sense. Judai wasn't trying to 'one-up' him in any way or, for example, trying to sell a story to the media. Judai simply was himself -- a person capable of miracles, a talented duelist, and someone who Edo would want fighting at his side when a new danger became real._

_They did stay up until sunrise like that, Judai going out like a light after the finals and promptly slumping down onto the floor. The obligatory snoring followed. Very poor coin tosses contributed to Manjoume's loss in the semifinals, although the crowd, featuring Judai as backup, had cheered for him as if he'd won the whole bloody tournament._

_A few months later, Edo Phoenix found himself shoving Manjoume against the dingy, mirrored wall of a slow elevator and shutting him up in a very direct, very foolish way. Which, again, was a mistake._

_Definitely._

\---

Against the faded yellow florals of the Victorian couch and its dark-walnut frame, Judai was a collision of saturated colours, everything about him hyper-real. His knowing grin seemed, for that reason alone, far too strong for the occasion. 

Together, they had watched Manjoume duel in a grand total of ‘one’ tournament. No more, no less.

“Considering that Thunder is a former protégé of mine, I have a vested interest in him _not_ embarrassing himself horribly on live television. Fourth place is...sufficient for that,” Edo drawled out. Why _exactly_ Judai thought bringing this up would be beneficial remained unclear to him. If anything, it was far more likely to be what _finally_ set off Manjoume’s next grand meltdown. 

Thankfully, it did not, the third member of their hastily assembled club maintaining that self-imposed isolation and steadily tapping away at his receptionless phone. Edo rolled his eyes at that. 

Some people were so much work.

“You _say_ that, but-” Judai trailed off, and when Edo glanced over, he found Judai’s eyes glazed, his mouth in a tense but not unkind frown. Whatever the source of that tension was, it passed, and Edo arched an eyebrow. Judai answered quickly. “Oh, it’s no big deal. One of the security guards went down the stairs a bit, and Neos was just telling me about it.”

“Hm. ‘No big deal,’ huh?”

“The guy dropped his radio and it went, like, down the first couple of steps. Like I said, no big deal,” Judai repeated, throwing out a ‘thumbs up’, and-

The sudden meltdown -- Manjoume springing up from his chair and storming over to them -- was difficult to avoid, given that they were still trapped in a safe.

“Get ‘em, Boss!” Ojama Yellow squeaked in support before Manjoume stopped by Edo’s chair and resumed the childish finger-pointing. His teeth were bared.

“ _This_ is your problem, Edo. _This_ right here. It should bother you, how fucking docile you can be about... _things_ ! Everything!” While Manjoume _could_ , Edo would admit, give the kinds of bombastic, emotional speeches that crowds adored and fit well in video compilations, this was evidently not going to be one of those speeches. “Your spirits are the prime example. You...don’t let them out, _ever_. They just stay curled around you. You even let Judai take over surveillance with his own stupid heroes. Don’t you have-?!”

“W-Woah, woah!” Judai waved his hands, his laugh awkward. “Edo’s just being Edo. That’s not something to yell about, is it?”

The backup was unnecessary. “Tell me if I’m wrong, but you didn’t challenge Judai on that point either. Seems to me like you’re being awfully, ah, ‘selective’ in your criticism…. Then again, such failings don’t exactly surprise me…” Edo observed.

“It’s different. My spirits are ready. You can feel them, can’t you? Or are you _that_ walled-up?” Manjoume shot back, meaninglessly. Empty cartridges. “I’ve noticed this attitude from you before, Edo. It didn’t seem so fucked up back then, but it is. You can just...shrug off _anything_.”

“...Is _that_ what this is about?” Edo began, neutral and waiting for the stiff nod from Manjoume. When it came, he made a show of taking a deep breath and sighing. “You’re mad that I’m too composed as a person. I’ll admit that this isn’t an angle that I ever considered, mainly because it’s not exactly _logical_. Most people would say that to me as a compliment, I should add.”

“I’m...so lost,” Judai blurted out, and when he sat up on the couch and opened his mouth to make what would likely be a very-obvious-statement, Manjoume leveled a finger right at him -- as if Judai was no longer the innocent bystander and had become the villain instead.

It should have stopped there. And yet, it did not, Manjoume soldiering on despite no one asking him to.

“When this slacker made a joke about a… ‘Battle Royale,’” Manjoume blurted out hurriedly, Edo feeling his own forehead start to twitch, “you didn’t even blink, Edo. You… Y-You just kept on _talking_ like it didn’t bother you at all, but it should. It should, times a thousand. Ten thousand.”

“Why?” Edo asked. 

“W-Why?!”

“Yes, that was my question,” Edo said, deadpan, and before Judai could interject (he _clearly_ wanted to), Edo cut him off. Each new word twisted Manjoume’s scowl. “It seems to me as though you’re in no position to judge my attitude. A generous person would describe your reasoning as ‘flawed’.”

“Stop acting so _detached_ ,” Manjoume spat out, the volume pushed way up. “For one fucking second, can you just-?”

“Hey, Manjoume?” It was Judai, with a friendly, open smile turning his handsome face and immediately making his rival-character sputter pathetically -- an entirely predictable reaction, of course. At first, Judai didn’t continue from there. He didn’t _have_ to. Lowering two outstretched hands in a ‘simmer down’ gesture, he glanced knowingly over at the free seat across from Edo’s one. 

Although Manjoume grimaced the entire time, as if Judai had wordlessly commanded him to, say, brush his failed-arts-and-crafts-project of a hairstyle out, he _did_ sit down and cross his legs at the ankles. Likely bored by the lack of a full-scale explosion, the Ojamas yawned and teleported away with three loud ‘pops’.

This could pass as a form of peace. A tentative truce.

Clearly, Judai had skills as a mediator, and, shaking his head, Edo exhaled and stared up at the filigree on the ceiling. Perhaps the other two couldn’t sense it, but he knew exactly where Bloo-D was, the spirit occupying the card that it was bound to. Even if the lights went out and his deck was scattered across the space at random, he would have been able to reach out and, without fail, feel that hero’s pulse through the paper, calling out for the answering beat of his own.

In truth, Manjoume had made one valid piece of criticism, shoved in as it was between a lot of yelling and general ‘anger’ -- Edo did keep his spirits close. He _liked_ having them close, safe and secure in their cards where he could always find them. Each was a talisman bearing his father’s name, and while he did not doubt the strength of his bonds with them, the simple truth was that this world could be very unkind to bonds forged by love. 

One pertinent example was his charity, an expression of his dream that others could avoid the hardships and uncertainties of his own childhood. He had publicized it less than a month ago, and in that time, numerous reporters had used it as an opportunity to speculate on his past and bother the employees at the orphanages he donated to. Gossip magazines had never printed so many columns with his name in it before. Edo’s own sponsors had vocalized their worries of how this ‘do-gooder’ phase would impact his image and dueling style. A retired duelist had used the media buzz to boost his own reputation, passing off stolen cards as genuine possessions. 

Plus, someone had also robbed him.

That one stung.

A lot.

It was normally so easy to navigate this glittering world of celebrity, meeting each new challenge like a wave that he -- knowing how best to angle his approach -- would simply drift over, rounding the crest effortlessly. And yet, the entire process was different now that he had allowed himself to openly love something beyond dueling. His heart was in this charity. If it succeeded, it could be his life’s work.

During that first press conference, the one to announce its creation and first-ever fundraising gala, he had smiled for the cameras and smoothly read the lines off the teleprompter, all while being unable to shake the sensation that he had just laid the Bloo-D card -- his most prized object, the last creation of his dear father -- on the floor where anyone could just _take it_. Step on it. Ruin it.

In those childhood days with Saiou at his side, Edo had often dreamt of himself inside the Clock Tower Prison, not kept there because of chains. Rather, he had stayed there by choice, enamoured with the silence, the isolation, and the moonlight, nothing else.

In comparison, he had _greatly_ preferred the dreams in which he had, say, rocket boots and could do loop-de-loops around the moon. Saiou's soothing calm never morphed into a pinched, worried expression over those dreams. 

He...needed to call Saiou more often.

He _would_ once he had a working connection and also wasn’t currently having two holes neatly drilled through the front of his skull by Manjoume’s glare. During their last rendezvous at an oceanside resort, Saiou had warmly teased him over letting his hair grow out, as if he was copying a ‘certain someone.’ It was now in a low ponytail, most of it thrown over his right shoulder as a shimmer of pale grey. His bangs hung as they usually did, his stylist insistent on that. Something about ‘brand consistency’. 

...Yep. He would call Saiou. He promised himself that, heaving out a sigh and lounging back more in that over-the-top chair. 

It remained uncanny, how Judai would just _say_ things that, at first, seemed to oppose his own thoughts but actually complemented them. 

“When I visited Asuka, she was learning about techniques to resolve arguments between students...or staff members too, I guess,” was how Judai began. His canines flashed as he grinned at the memory. “She told me about one where the two people give each other a compliment before they continue the discussion, and, well, since we _are_ stuck here for a bit…”

“...Did you hit your head or something?” Manjoume blurted out, as if Judai applying something other than a duel for conflict resolution was a sign of a traumatic injury. Edo took the opposite approach. He stared straight ahead, and when Manjoume, flinching, met his gaze, he held it.

“I’ll give you this, Thunder. You can be surprisingly observant.”

“W-What…?” 

He really must have caught the other duelist off guard. It was amusing, how quickly that blush burned across Manjoume’s fair skin before he ducked his head, muttering to himself. Edo continued. “For instance, you _were_ able to follow me inside this high-security building without attracting any negative attention. Sure, you had the advantage of your cards, but you also would’ve needed to examine your surroundings.”

“Y-Yeah, I…” Again, Manjoume dissolved into random gibberish, burying his head in both hands for a beat while Judai, a cheerful onlooker, nodded enthusiastically. Edo made his final point, his fingers absently digging into the plush chair. His voice did not reflect that.

“You’re also correct in that I keep my defenses high. I’m not so childish that I would deny it. Still, I’m not like that by accident. ...You have the same profession that I do, so you should understand my reasoning by now."

Slowly, Manjoume straightened up. His hair, per usual, was a complete disaster, the stubborn pieces splayed out at random. His suit had not managed to correct itself, the lapels creased and the jacket still hanging limply. His stare did not glow like Judai’s -- a creation alit with a million colours and always in a state of motion, of change. Rather, Manjoume’s gaze was a work of contrasts. Grey. White. Black. 

It was blatant, how Manjoume assessed him during that stretch of silence. Finally, the process gained a nervous tension to it, those pupils darting around quickly and seemingly repelled by Edo’s own. Despite that, he did not rush through his statement.

"Earlier, when you shoved me into a corner because 'someone' was approaching the vault, I was pissed off. I almost lost it completely. But…" Edo waited, and eventually Manjoume kept going, a determination flashing over his narrow features. "You're the one who knows judo and all that stuff. ...Although, you shouldn't have the wrong impression of me, by the way. I-I _can_ handle myself in tough situations," Manjoume snapped out, more harshly than before, and yet Edo could only grin back. Embarrassed, Thunder? "Still, I...can't argue against your decision. You...were right to try and…"

"And?" Edo asked, causing Manjoume to bristle like an angry cat. Grey eyes became decidedly unkind. 

Regardless, Manjoume still said it.

"You were right to defend me like that. It was the best choice for a tactician to make. And… 'I'm not so childish that I would deny it,' right?"

"I'm honored that you take my words so seriously," Edo replied, but Manjoume's little ticks of anger were just for show. The smile he gave Edo next was almost cautious, vulnerable. 

Edo forced himself to look down at the table spanning the distance between them. Yep. It was still there. Still marble. Still acting as a convenient barrier. 

Judai had made himself just as immobile and silent as said table, perhaps so that he, like a wildlife photographer camped out in rugged terrain, could continue observing some fascinating display for as long as possible. However, Edo was not planning on remaining a docile member of the local fauna. 

"So...," he began, tossing his head back. His ponytail dripped over his shoulder, spreading over the frame of the chair. "Have you enjoyed your role as school counselor, Yuki Judai?"

In the blink of an eye, Judai was all loose gestures and cheerful laughs again. "Ahhh, while acting like that all the time would be waaaay too much work for a guy like me, I'm just happy that my friends aren't at each other's throats anymore. ...Which makes it more likely that someone here will start a duel. ...Maybe with me. Ha. Haha."

"So _that's_ your agenda," Manjoume grumbled out, momentarily forgetting that, as Judai's most dedicated rival character, he should have been throwing his deck down immediately. 

Edo chuckled to himself. Okay, an amendment. Manjoume could be remarkably observant when not-Judai people were involved. 

As if to provide more evidence of that, Manjoume quickly returned to snarling at him again. "Oi, Edo. What are you snickering about?"

"Nothing of importance."

"I'll be the judge of that."

"Sorry, but your credentials don't hold up," Edo smoothly replied, and while Manjoume grumbled to himself, Judai glanced between them. Then, the hero duelist pouted. A lot.

"Did...everyone forget about dueling me?"

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Status: Since I've now run into the chapters I'm still working on, the next few will be delayed. I'll give it my best shot.
> 
> Edo: he'll. get the words out and address the elephant in the room. eventually.


	4. Experimental

\---

“I-It doesn’t even have to be Duel Monsters!”

“Really?” Edo replied, skeptical, and Judai nodded.

“Sure. We could play, uh…”

“Forgive me, but I haven’t heard of a game called ‘uh’,” Edo stated, deadpan, and Manjoume snorted with laughter. Judai stammered like a student caught with a late assignment.

“W-W-Well…”

“I’m listening.”

“How about...truth or dare?”

Manjoume took over for that answer. “What kind of a joke is that?! Slacker, put some thought into this.”

“I am!” Judai declared, to no effect.

“Like I’d believe  _ that _ !”

Not for the first time since they had unceremoniously been locked in that safe, Edo wished that he had a hot cup of tea to, well,  _ enhance  _ the experience of watching Judai and Manjoume bicker. To be fair, the bickering was mostly one-sided -- Judai was more prone to sighing dramatically and occasionally slumping-over on the couch. If he wanted to, Edo could add his own remarks to the conflict, strengthening the efforts of one side and thus combating the other. 

If he criticized Judai, then his fellow hero duelist would go for the sympathetic angle. Big eyes. Pleas of ‘Ah, come on… Edoooo…’. At random, Judai would flop over onto his side and grab at Edo’s hand or knee, and he had only become increasingly ‘clingy’ as the minutes ticked by. Edo would brush him off whenever it best suited his own ‘haughty’ persona. It was all for fun, after all.

If he criticized Manjoume, then Manjoume would pummel him with poorly thought-out insults at a rapid pace, like an amateur opponent in the ring who assumed that the number of hits, rather than their quality, was the most important part of fighting. But, again, the blows were just for fun, to pass the time.

They had over two hours left in this place, give or take. 

Like Judai, Manjoume had thrown off his jacket, leaving Edo as the most ‘overdressed’ of their trio. Under his hand-me-down motorcycle kit, he was wearing only athletic shorts and a tank top, owing to time constraints. Thus far, Judai had snuck in two ‘I’m shocked that you’re not wearing a suit’ comments, which was...fair. 

He did own many, many suits.

Then again, he didn’t need to take any comments related to his appearance from a man who had paired the Kaiser’s old jeans with Kuriboh socks, one furry critter currently peering over the top of Judai’s right boot.

At the present, that same man was cringing while Manjoume launched into a snide criticism of his latest suggestion for a game. Evidently, ‘Animal, Vegetable, Mineral’ was not one of Manjoume’s favourites.

“Edo,” Judai whispered as he leaned over, his eyes wide in mock terror. “Edo, you gotta help me out. It’s like I’m losing the game before we’ve even  _ picked  _ one.”

“H-Hey! Edo, don’t take pity on this idiot!” Manjoume snapped out from his seat, and Edo rolled his eyes at that. 

“Ah, what kind of situation have I wandered into…?” he lamented, using one finger to poke Judai’s forehead and direct him back, out of Edo’s own bubble of personal space. “You know, some adults would use this as an opportunity to discuss the world outside. Businesses. Finances. Politics.”

“I’d rather eat my tie than listen to Yuki Judai talk about  _ politics _ ,” Manjoume snapped.

“Come on, Thunder. You might even enjoy my insights into...stuff.”

“I can barely stand listening to you blather about your cards. Hero this. Hero that. ...Not like Edo’s much better.”

“Oooh. Shots fired.”

Rolling his eyes again, Edo decided to join in properly. “Well, if you’re going to insult me so directly, then I have no choice but to make an alliance. So, Judai…”

"Yeeees?"

"It appears that our favorite archetype is being insulted...by a person who uses  _ Ojamas _ ."

"Watch it. My Ojamas have kicked your ass once before, and if you've forgotten that," Manjoume said, his arrogance unleashed, "then I'll challenge you right now."

While Judai -- over-excited by the prospect of a duel -- shook Edo's arm, Edo simply hummed to himself, tapped his fingers against the ornate armrests, and then answered with, "Thunder, Thunder… You're too easy to rile up…"

"Says the guy who just teamed up with this slacker out of  _ spite _ ."

"Well, that's different," Edo quickly replied, Judai blinking at him in curiosity. Judai had also eased-up on the shaking -- it was now more 'mild turbulence on a plane' and less 'kid violently trying to get candy out of a stubborn package'. "It's simply not right to treat heroes of destiny and justice with such disrespect. Wouldn't you agree, Judai?"

"All cards have their place, including the Ojama brothers," was Judai's neutral response, and while he seemed posed to let go, he stopped abruptly. His fingers stayed over Edo's bulky sleeve, and his expression dropped into a small frown. "Uh, Edo?"

"I take it that there's something interesting about my arm?" was Edo's question, a bit mocking. Judai just moved in closer, now completely off the couch and firmly inside that bubble of personal space. 

"Are you...recovering from an injury?"

"Not to my knowledge."

"You have a bandage on." 

"Technically, it's a heat wrap."

"...Aren't you…supposed to take those off?" Judai asked with unnecessary trepidation, and Edo, rolling his eyes yet-again, gave Judai his best buy-whatever-product-I'm-currently-holding smile. It should have been more convincing than that -- Judai’s frown, if anything, only intensified. 

"Remind me. Out of the two of us, which person makes a regular habit out of jumping off buildings?" Edo teased. 

"Hmm... Can't say… You have a lot of hobbies, after all," Judai drawled out, and while Edo lacked the powerful foresight of Saiou's youth, he could plainly see that Judai would be as stubborn as possible about this. It was, of course, deeply hypocritical from a self-made vigilante. 

Then again, Judai had a protective side. 

A very strong one, at that. 

Edo opted for the path of least resistance. After yanking the zipper further down his chest, he was able to roll off the top-left side of his motorcycle kit, exposing his shoulder and most of his arm. Which, naturally, featured a neat white patch over his bicep. There was a second one over his back, albeit of a different model. Both wraps could be kept on for 16 hours, and he remained within that interval. 

It was hardly a gory scene. Any scars he had were years old. 

Judai fingers continued to hover. Flecks of green appeared in one eye. 

"Let me guess. Book signings."

It was Manjoume, his arms tightly crossed over his dress shirt. 

"Is this the game you've settled on? Asking me obvious questions?" Edo replied, and he pulled the kit up again. He switched targets. "Judai, don't misinterpret this. You can buy these things at a grocery store. It's not serious."

"You need to take more time off...or get stuck in safes with me and Thunder more often, at least," was the comment Judai gave next, although he did sit down again. Absently, he had laid his palm over Edo's arm, the location lower than before. Just above the crook of his elbow. 

Edo let his smile sharpen at the corners. "Yes, because the world of celebrity is notoriously forgiving of long absences from the spotlight," he said, sarcastic. Manjoume took that as his cue to offer some condescending advice. 

"Maybe you haven't realized this yet, but people are getting tired of seeing your try-hard face on literally everything. Like, yogurt, pizza boxes, tissues… It’s getting creepy.”

"I'm not working like this simply to feed my own ego. Or...have you forgotten  _ why  _ that producer was about to cause such trouble for me?"

Manjoume reeled back, his upper lip curling. Still, he held off from shouting. The restraint was admirable. "...For a guy who goes on and on about being rational and a 'prodigy' and so,  _ so  _ hardworking and intelligent, you can be stupid -- stupider than  _ Judai _ .”

“Ah, how nice. I didn’t realize you cared,” Edo said, but it was an empty retort. Manjoume showed his teeth. 

As it was, the conversation would have likely devolved into a pointless argument followed by more bickering, bad jokes, and, eventually, boredom. Edo would have taken that deal.

Instead, Judai changed everything.

It started simply -- Judai’s palm, rather than being a faint presence over his thick sleeve, pressed down, Judai’s calloused fingers a warm tan against the matte black. Bewildered, Edo had peered down at Judai’s hand, not repulsed by the strengthened touch. If he wanted to, he could have slipped away from it or reprimanded his friend, showing where his boundaries were. Or he could have thrown up the haughty act again, maybe even taunting Judai for daring to touch him so boldly.

And yet, when he met Judai’s gaze, his retort died in his mouth. His buzzing, lively thoughts went still.

In contrast, his heart thumped harder than before. Much faster, as well.

Sitting on the edge of the couch, Judai had thrown his long legs out, the laces on one boot undone and spilling in tangled lines of grey over the red carpet. Laced with healing scratches, his tanned arm alone crossed the gap between them. Despite that, he seemed so much nearer than he was. His head was tilted far to the side. A curving shard of light traced his jawline, marking it with pure white.

Edo did not have an epiphany. 

He understood that his friend also happened to be beautiful.

He could even pinpoint just what Judai’s appeal was -- it was the collision of his untamed, angular features with those expressive eyes that, like a stretch of open ocean under the setting sun, always flickered with something new. Bursting with flame-reds and softer oranges, the waves could appear gentle or strong. Rippling, they could suddenly rise up to rival skyscrapers, their power blatant, or they could settle into a vast calm, the smooth dark of the water like a night sky. 

He had seen Judai at peace, lounging by a campfire on Academy Island or curled up in his own hotel room, draped over his knee and accidentally, incrementally shifting what they meant to each other. He had also seen Judai in the depths of conflict, fending off blows and gritting his teeth, and Edo was not stupid. He might have been  _ ignoring  _ certain things, but he understood the conclusions they pointed towards.

He liked Judai.

A part of himself liked being near Judai.

That same part liked it when Judai stayed with him, challenged him, or, fuck it all, teased him in that all-knowing, overconfident way. That attitude only made it more satisfying when Edo composed his own retorts, extending the controlled game that was many of their conversations.

Underestimating Yuki Judai was foolish in most contexts. Perhaps he had done so here.

When Judai spoke, it was with a low, dragging tone, his grip on Edo’s arm staying loose but drifting slightly, playing with the folds in the fabric.

“So, let me get this straight… You’re generous, courageous… Smart as hell…” Judai trailed off briefly, his smirk jutting up. “Hey, Edo, if you  _ really  _ want to get away from it all and relax, why don’t you hit me up sometime? I’m sure there’s something fun we could do.”

Edo breathed in quickly. He knew this feeling. It was often bolstered by white-hot adrenaline as he plummeted down from a plane, the wind screaming in his ears as he counted the seconds until he needed to react, a parachute bundled over his back. It sometimes emerged during a duel on a wide, wide stage, the kind where the screams and stomps of the crowd would shake the foundations like an earthquake. 

It was an addictive feeling, and he rarely backed away from it. If it told him to go faster, he would. If it told him to slip into freefall, he was bound to that impulse. In a sparring match, it would dull the hits, bolster his own strikes. It made him laugh freely.

He let a mocking grin answer Judai’s smirk, and the siren call of that feeling did not fade quietly. It continued to call out, echoing on and on. Soaring high. 

“That might be complicated,” he heard himself say lightly. “After all, your lifestyle isn’t exactly… Let’s go with ‘predictable.’ I might hold a grudge if you stand me up.”

Judai switched tactics.

He should have seen it coming, the hyper-bright orange buried within Judai’s eyes flaring, like hot sparks against pavement. Judai let his attention drift over to their group’s third member, currently sitting with tense, perfected posture and-

There was no denying how stark Manjoume’s red blush was against his skin, just like Edo could no longer pretend that he wasn’t a sucker for it.

Evidently, being trapped in a massive safe was now testing more than his patience. He was  _ not  _ going to throw himself into a love triangle, especially not one involving Manjoume Jun’s terrible, all-consuming schoolboy-crush on Yuki Judai. Just to reinforce that, he was soon privy to a prime example of just how strong Judai’s effect on Manjoume could be.

Judai began with the same low tone as before, and it made Manjoume shudder so hard that Edo could see it. 

“Ah, Manjoume… Edo’s playing hard to get. You know, maybe if we  _ both  _ wait for him somewhere interesting, he’ll actually take time off work and show up. From there, the possibilities are...fun to think about, aren’t they?”

It was an unfair matchup, Manjoume stuttering helplessly before looking over to Edo. There was room for a smart-ass retort, a playful comment. Edo had nothing. This would have been the perfect moment for a security guard to clumsily hobble down the stairs and set off Judai’s hero alarms. Maybe Edo’s radio could have loudly crackled to life and smashed the pause button on  _ whatever  _ this was becoming. But, no. 

There was just this -- the heady air, the tension, and the conflicting wants and needs battling it out inside Edo’s skull.  One side was far more motivated than the other. 

Cursing, one hand curled over his face, Manjoume managed to confront Judai again.

“Y-You...don’t have a clue what you’re talking about. Maybe you should...stick to your terrible hero cards. Or...s-something. ...Fuck,” he mumbled, biting off the last syllable and becoming fascinated by the carpet below. As if to test Edo personally, Judai then switched targets again.

Canines showing, he appeared far, far too pleased with himself, and Edo swallowed with a too-tight throat. Damn it. 

“Well, Thunder, if you don’t want to go after Edo, I might just have to,” Judai said, the joking twist of it blatant but also so, so weak. Yes, Judai could still laugh it all off as ‘fun between duelists’ if he chose to. And yet, it wouldn’t have been effective. Not at all.

In a split second, Edo made his decision.

“Judai.”

“Yes?”

Taking a deep breath, Edo raised both of his hands and then mimed plugging his ears. 

Judai raised an eyebrow, but his smile didn’t even twitch as he dutifully did the real thing. Then, Edo got up, walked over to Manjoume’s chair, and started a necessary conversation, overlooking the fact that Manjoume was still covering his face, some patches of red showing through the gaps in his fingers.

“I suppose it’s time for us to act like adults and discuss this openly.”

For contrast, Manjoume grumbled out, “I  _ hate  _ that guy.”

Edo sighed. Progress could still be made. “No, you don’t.”

“D-Don’t argue with me!”

“Judai is making these comments in particular because he’s noticed that the relationship between us has changed."

“...Edo, if I strangle him, will you be my alibi?”

“No.”

“...Fuck,” Manjoume muttered next, and he dropped his hands, sighing deeply. To his credit, Judai was sitting quite happily with his fingers in his ears, waving with four free fingers. Manjoume glared as if Judai had just used a Manjoume Thunder brand cheering flag to blow his nose. 

Edo stayed on topic. It was impossible, that  _ he  _ was the youngest one here.

“There are two options. Either we pretend that nothing happened six weeks ago, or we talk about it.”

That glare hit him next. “Huh. Took you awhile to figure that out, Mr. Star Duelist.”

“Correct me if I’m wrong,” Edo began, “but you never attempted to contact  _ me  _ either.”

Considering that Manjoume’s face was covered in splotches of red-pink, it was hard to tell that he blushed even more. But, he did. Snarling, he wrung his hands together, probably composing a rant inside his head. Thankfully, he did not unleash its entirety into the world. “W-Whatever… I…don’t…” Round two, the sentence rushed out. “Look, I don’t want to deny anything that’s in my past. I’m not a coward. If… I-If Judai wants to tease me for the next ten years because you and I…” Round three, Manjoume groaning and running both palms over his cheeks. “Urgh. Let’s get it over with. We can talk about it with Judai. I don’t care.”

“Alright,” Edo said, rocking back on his heels, and he would have gladly walked away. Manjoume, as was tradition, kept talking for longer than was strictly necessary.

“Wait, hold on. Why are you putting all the pressure on  _ me  _ to decide? W-What’s wrong with you?”

Say it carefully, Phoenix. Edo examined the filigree for a moment. “Because you’ve ‘hated’ Judai for a lot longer than I’ve ‘disliked’ him.”

“...W-What?!”

Judai mimed screwing his fingers deeper into his ears. Edo shook his head. He kept his own voice down. “Believe it or not, I’m not heartless, and since you’ve-”

“Just tell me what  _ you  _ want to do,” Manjoume ground out, his pupils surrounded by pure, glowing silver. A second ticked past. Another. One more.

“We should talk about what happened at the gala, since it has...altered things. Regardless, I want to make it clear. I’m not going to involve myself in anything resembling a ‘love triangle.’ ...Just the idea gives me a headache. With that in mind, this might be your time to stop hiding behind a long-dead rivalry,” he stated, and Manjoume really shouldn’t have been blinking up at him in complete and utter confusion. It was insulting, since Edo had gone out on a proverbial limb and called him ‘observant’ earlier that very night.

“Are...you telling me to... _ confess  _ to  _ Judai _ ?”

“I’m not telling you to do anything."

“N-No! You  _ are _ .”

“You can interpret it that way, if you want to,” Edo said, shrugging, and before Manjoume could drag him back into  _ that  _ mess, he returned to his chair. The distance was helpful. He signaled for Judai to remove those makeshift earbuds. 

\---

One of the most valuable assets for a duelist to have was good timing.

Yes, other variables such as draw luck were important, but many newcomers to the professional tiers seemed to underestimate timing, especially when it came to preparing and sometimes  _ holding  _ onto a combo rather than simply playing it as soon as possible. Certain opponents stockpiled defenses that had to be cleared out first. Others specialized in counterattacks.

Admittedly, Edo had missed several windows to clear the air of this particular issue. Hindsight made that very obvious, as if he was now rewatching a video of a sparring match and seeing himself miss chance after chance in slow motion while an overpaid trainer eagerly tapped the screen for emphasis. 

Therefore, when Judai dropped his hands into his lap and then blinked at each of them in turn, Edo did not hesitate. Actually, he caught himself laughing at the start, shaking his head and letting his tied hair drift over his shoulder. 

“Six weeks ago, both Manjoume and I were invited to a gala in Berlin, hosted by the prestigious HHLB corporation. I could describe the entire affair as ‘routine,’ except for one incident.” He glanced at Manjoume. Hands still tangled together. Fascination with the carpet resumed. Edo would call his response ‘neutral,’ thus far. He continued. “It’s all rather cliché from there. I found myself sitting next to Manjoume at the bar. We proceeded to drink way too much. I kissed him in the elevator. We made out in his hotel room, and then...he fell asleep on me. End scene.”

“You...fell asleep first,” was the barely-a-whisper from Manjoume. Edo snorted.

“You’re heavier than you look, Thunder. Plus, I’d wager that my memory is better than yours.”

Although there were some angry grumbles, Manjoume didn’t counter the point -- probably because Edo was right. “...It doesn’t matter. You knocked my head into that wall, the mirrored one in the elevator.”

“If I recall correctly, you bit my lip hard enough that it bled on my shirt. My  _ white  _ shirt, at that.”

“S-Shut up!” Manjoume snapped, straightening up in his seat. “I-It’s not my fault that you’re lips are so fucking  _ dry _ . Isn’t there a lip balm out there with your smug face on it?!”

“Probably,” Edo observed, shrugging for effect. “Either way, at least we’ve confirmed that I’m a better kisser than you are.”

“N-N-No?! We haven’t?!” 

“Well, I guess we’ll have to agree to disagree,” was Edo’s flippant answer, and then he chuckled to himself, almost in disbelief. Maybe it was possible for himself and Manjoume to argue over  _ anything _ . Despite the obligatory snarling and cursing, his companion wasn’t  _ genuinely  _ enraged in the slightest -- he could see that. 

It felt like they had just shared an awkward joke and survived all the way to the cringey, cringey end. 

Although, their little group did have three members.

Despite having a near-constant surveillance system of duel monsters, Judai could be startled by anything from a broken vending machine beeping randomly to an amateur duelist mispronouncing one of his various hero-themed cards. During their own hotel-room adventure, Judai had woken up because, flailing around in his sleep, he had knocked over one of the precarious side tables and effectively startled-himself awake, which Edo had found, well, pretty hilarious. He had almost spilled his coffee when Judai, getting up and stretching his arms out, had then proceeded to punch a lamp. By accident, of course.

Few things could make Edo laugh harder than a sheepish Yuki Judai, if he was being very honest.

And yet, despite their assorted misadventures, he had never seen Judai’s eyes go quite that wide before, like the ever-open plastic ones on a doll. 

“Judai?”

“...I...feel like I should congratulate someone,” he said, dazed. Was it really so surprising for him? Then again, Edo knew that hearing a theory confirmed could be a different experience than compiling it.

Manjoume cut in. “You should congratulate me. It’s actually a miracle that I didn’t hurt my neck trying to deal with this short-ass duelist.”

“Oh. Petty insults. How creative of you,” Edo replied, as sarcastic as possible, and this time, he was finally prepared for Judai to just come in with a wild, stupefying statement. 

“I...can’t believe I missed seeing that,” was what Judai observed next. Manjoume crumpled in embarrassment. 

“Oh,  _ God _ . Slacker…”

“Like I said,” Edo clarified, “we were drunk. I wouldn’t call it a ‘proud’ moment, by any means.”

"That doesn't mean you can't do it again, minus the alcohol," Judai pointed out. Manjoume was still indisposed, his head buried in his hands. Some people really were too much work to deal with, and Manjoume remained a prime example of that.

Fine.

It wasn't as if Edo  _ couldn't  _ answer the inquiry himself.

"Nothing can sink a professional duelist's career faster than a scandal."

"Sure, but it's not like you're doing anything wrong."

"Even if I agree with that, I doubt that the media will be so kind."

Judai hummed to himself. "I dunno about that. Also, most duel fans I've met don't care at all about who is dating who."

"Who said anything about 'dating?'"

"Uh… I used that as a…'catch all' term," Judai said, nodding once. Then, a mischievous glint changed his narrowing stare. "Although, you  _ are  _ single, aren't you?"

"That would be the word to describe it."

"Hmm. Then...there's not a problem here, is there?" Judai asked.

Incorrect. There  _ was _ one in particular. 

"I'd rather not involve myself. That's all."

"...Oh." Judai blinked a few times. His smile returned in earnest. "Well, err… I should apologize for all the teasing I did earlier…"

"I noticed what you were doing. Make no mistake of that." 

"Hmm. Alright," Judai chirped. With his chin propped against his knuckles, his posture loose and open, he seemed miles and miles away from the focused, enthralling person who, earlier, had activated the most impulsive part of Edo's very self -- making it seem so  _ easy  _ as if he had a wire extending down to it and the corresponding controller in one hand. With a guilty cringe, Judai then muttered, "Yeah… I...totally went overboard."

"It’s fine. I'm honestly just relieved that you haven't found a way to put more glass in my hair, considering how our get-together in June went."

"Hmm. No one's tried to swing a pipe at my head yet either," Judai said, referencing their most recent meet-up in September, and, apparently, Manjoume saw this as his opportunity. Bolting up, he began to pace back and forth.

"Hey, Edo…"

"Yes?" he answered, arching an eyebrow. With an unsteady hand, Manjoume yanked on his dull grey tie, loosening it. The motion was simple, incidental. 

Edo knew that he had stared at it anyways.

"I'm… I mean…" Breaking off, Manjoume slashed at the air and then proceeded to make his disaster of a hairstyle even worse, raking his fingers through it. "I get what you were trying to say to me earlier, and I...should curse you for that, for acting like such a know-it-all."

Edo snorted. "I mean, you could  _ try _ doing that and see what it accomplishes."

"I'm not going to. Instead, I should…" 

Manjoume's grey eyes slowly,  _ slowly  _ moved from some dirt on the carpet over to the table and then beyond it, landing on Judai's undone boot and traveling higher. It was a drama unfolding in real time. Judai -- either genuinely clueless or the greatest actor of their time -- blinked a lot. 

"Uh, Manjoume?"

\---

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> narrator: edo, in fact, had not deftly removed himself from the situation, as it wasn't actually a love triangle. 
> 
> also, I swear this is going somewhere. I let my will-they-or-won't-they? drama get a bit wild here, ha. hahaha.


	5. Confidential

\---

No one had ever described Edo Phoenix as a romantic person, and he did not take even the slightest offence to that. 

He knew the drill, of course. Red roses. Lavish dinners. Pretty words.

Thus far, he had co-starred in four different drama series, and he had always been written into the 'mysterious side character with a dark past' role. His first kiss had taken place on a hot, busy set. The lead actress had argued with the director between takes -- apparently, her dressing room had been in deplorable condition. 

Edo found the entire affair extremely funny. He never failed to cackle when Saiou brought it up, usually as an example of how Edo's current management team was 'lacking in subtlety'. But, really, Edo didn't mind at all. 

When his yacht had been parked in the harbour of Academy Island, he had repeatedly found the older Tenjouin sibling perched on a concrete divider, strumming a ukulele, and very, very eager to dispense love advice like an anonymous newspaper column made sentient. Later on, during one of the many low-activity nights in the Dark World, he had passed those stories on to Hell Kaiser and watched his usually aloof comrade in arms chuckle to himself. Apparently, there was nothing unusual about that person spreading the word of true love. 

After Edo had revealed that a  _ mysterious  _ visitor had snuck a stack of poetry books until his pillow, Ryo had even thrown back his head and laughed uproariously. 

Although Edo had never brought up the subject directly, he would  _ guess  _ that Manjoume was both A) more romantically inclined than he was, meaning it had a rating greater than zero, and B) unlikely to have expected a confession to follow being locked in a safe. 

Oh, and for that confession to feature Edo being there.

He wasn't there by choice, but, hey, life worked in mysterious ways. 

Currently, Manjoume had yet to move beyond blinking at Judai with a distinct look of panic. Judai's visible confusion had only multiplied. 

It was progressing exactly how Edo had expected it to, which was as slowly and awkwardly as humanly possible. 

Somehow, these people were actually his friends. 

Somehow, he was  _ actually  _ putting up with this display, and, passing a hand over his forehead, Edo took a deep breath and counted to three. When he hit the final number, nothing had happened. The air was cycled through the room with a mechanical whine.

How riveting. 

"I can  _ feel _ myself aging," Edo said, which was equivalent to volunteering himself to become Manjoume's punching bag. Or target dummy. 

Not that he couldn't take it. 

"Would you  _ mind  _ shutting up or do I have to hold your stupid mouth closed?" Manjoume shot back.

"My apologies. I thought that you had forgotten what you were doing."

"How is that  _ possible _ ?"

"Well, I'm not inside your head."

"W-Why are you still talking?!"

"You...did just ask me a question," Edo observed. Manjoume muttered nonsense to himself and then-

He turned back to Judai. 

He actually said it.

"Judai, since we were in school together, I've had...feelings for you. They haven't gone away at all, so… I…”

Judai smiled a little. He stood up, walked around the chunk of marble, and put a hand on Manjoume's shoulder. Distantly, Edo considered rising up and finding somewhere else to occupy space. Maybe he could crack the safe, with enough motivation.

Glancing away for a beat, Judai replied with, "Ever since what happened in the Dark World, I know that I can just be... _ gone  _ sometimes. I'm still like that on occasion. I put on a jacket, check over my cards, and then I just...go somewhere, like hitting a map at random and then narrowing everything in my head down to that one point."

"Judai…" Manjoume continued, his voice shaking. Edo memorized the curves of the filigree above. He could start reciting digits of pi until they all melded together and an error became inevitable, if he needed a better distraction. "N-None of that is  _ new  _ to me, so don't pretend that it is."

"Yeah, true. But…" Judai paused. It was brief and yet it didn't feel that way at all. "I’m sorry, Manjoume. I’ve liked you as more than a friend for a while now, but, hey, you can call me weak if you want to. I still went and hid myself away like that.”

“Idiot…”

When Edo -- exhausting the potential of some squiggly golden lines -- looked over, Manjoume had Judai in a very thorough, very close hug. Judai had one hand over the small of his back, shifting how his dress shirt fell. With the other, Judai covered the nape of his neck, Manjoume’s face completely buried in Judai’s shoulder, and Edo could only grin and roll his eyes at how  _ obvious  _ this had been. Like holding two opposing magnets nearer and nearer to each other until they ‘clacked’ together.

His relief had two parts -- the selfish and the unselfish. The first was because there was now a high probability that Manjoume’s endless  _ whining  _ about his not-actually-a-rival would become less...pathetic. The second was because, yeah, two of his friends had figured something out. They didn’t deserve to be caged by insecurities. 

Saiou had explained the ‘just world’ fallacy to Edo at an age when most other kids would be stumbling over basic addition or the gravely important decision of which colour of pencil to use for a worksheet. At its core, it described the belief that good actions would lead to good outcomes. The heroes would be cheered for their good deeds. In turn, villains would find their misdeeds punished.

Despite his familiarity with it, Edo  _ knew  _ that he fell for the fallacy far, far more often than he wanted to. Perhaps it was an embedded flaw, as he did love heroes and probably always would. Because he had watched his father sketch costume after costume, explaining the small details as the pencil scratched its way through a new cape or cowl, a part of Edo’s very self had been determined at a young age. Again, he was aware of that. He understood it as well as his tendency to throw too much weight into his punches. 

Backstage at a late-night gig, he had watched Manjoume berate a producer for allowing the host to make an off-colour joke about another guest, a novice duelist younger than he was, and when Edo had stepped out of the shadows to tip the scale of that argument, Manjoume had  _ glowed  _ with unrestrained pride. 

Judai had that same quality, although his, well,  _ embodiments  _ of it usually involved more stuff getting broken or set on fire. Dramatic as such things could seem, Judai himself was never the aggressive party. He defended, and he defended well.

It all made sense: Judai eventually laughing at some stupid insult Manjoume grumbled against his shirt, Edo sighing in relief and lolling his head back. 

God, that break from the ‘I’m in love with Judai’ complaints would be very,  _ very  _ nice indeed.

\---

The hug ended abruptly. Squawking, Judai almost fell over when Manjoume shoved him back. Although it teetered, the museum-style pedestal that he had bumped did  _ not  _ shatter into a million pieces and thus inflict Edo with a migraine.

"H-Hey!"

"J-Just sit down or...something," Manjoume weakly barked out, and Judai, balancing on one foot, responded by dragging Manjoume over to the couch and plunking down next to him. 

Yet-again, Manjoume cradled his head in his hands. 

"What...did I even  _ say _ ? Urgh…"

"I feel like this is a bad sign," Judai wondered aloud. Manjoume stepped on his foot. 

"You don't have to blurt out  _ every little  _ thought, by the way."

"Oh. I don't. You would  _ definitely  _ kick me a lot more if I did."

"Urgh… You're the worst."

"Embarassed, huh?" Judai chirped, nudging Manjoume with one shoulder, and Edo didn't have to wait long until the scuffle. He checked his radio. ...Still functional. 

"S-Shut up!" Manjoume finally grumbled. Edo, having stared at each button and dial and then repeated the entire process, put it back on the table. 

Judai piped up again. "Ha, you know, I was pretty embarrassed too. Speaking about that stuff is...like those dreams where I go to class but I forgot my pants. ...And then Chronos-sensei gives me Super Detention."

"What's Super Detention?" Edo asked, making Judai laugh brightly.

"So far, I've always woken up before I could find out! I can't really answer the question because of that, and-"

"Wait, hold on. You were embarrassed about  _ that _ ," Manjoume blurted out, sitting up ramrod straight and fixing Judai with a glare, "but not about, what, inviting me and Edo for a 'Battle Royale' once we get the fuck out of this safe?!"

Edo Phoenix liked to think that he had developed a 'battle sense' after so many years throwing himself into absurd and often dangerous situations. Even if he went in without a plan, he would be able to react effectively, courtesy of said experience. 

Earlier that night, he had felt an itch on the back of his neck while traversing the bland, white hallways of the bottom level, and in hindsight, he should have listened to that feeling. Perhaps he would have seen the Ojamas peering around a corner, or maybe even their chosen duelist clumsily flattening himself against a wall.

Now, as Judai hummed to himself while Manjoume continued to...Manjoume at him, Edo could feel a warning prickle its way across his senses. It was subtle, yes. But it was present all the same. 

He expected for a thud to come from the other side of the reinforced safe door. Or for one of Judai's heroes to shimmer in with an alarming report. But, nope. 

Judai -- one arm over the back of the couch, his too-long canines flashing white as he leaned to the side and appraised Edo with a calculating, knowing stare -- asked a question. 

"So, when you say you don't want to 'involve' yourself with Thunder, is it because of…this?" He gestured between himself and Manjoume, and Edo could only laugh at that. Ah, Judai… Persistent as always. 

"That could be a factor, yes."

"Is that a major factor?" Judai asked, and Edo-

Edo had no idea what was at the end of this road. 

"Hmm. Well… Aside from the debacle with Mike the producer and rumors that my yacht burned down outside Academy Island, I've managed to keep my public record relatively clean in recent years. I don't see why I would risk that by allowing my personal life to become...complicated," he explained, grinning all the while. Was Judai...trying to mess with him? He'd gladly meet that challenge. 

"So… That's why you're not seeing anyone?"

"You could say that."

"But why does it have to be complicated?"

The radio gave off a faint static. It roared in the silence that followed. 

Yes, Judai was leading him down a road, only now he could see the outline of their destination, which was...impossible. Wasn't it?

He had chosen his outcome weeks ago, which was to get over the impulses that pulled at his mind and keep focusing on work. If he wanted a kick of adrenaline, he could always hurl himself off a waterfall or take up freeclimbing, as opposed to making out with a colleague or  _ thinking  _ about the person that colleague was a glutton for. 

He had chosen it, and yet...he could adapt, couldn't he? He could move unexpectedly. 

"...I'm not sure that you're aware of what you're talking about," Edo said, his voice still causal, light. His heart had picked up speed, as if that would hurl him further down this strange, strange road and bring more of their destination into focus. He needed the details. 

He watched as Manjoume yanked more of his tie loose, a glance exchanged between the rivals -- former rivals. 

Something was happening. Edo's nails dug into the armrests. 

It wasn't the first time Manjoume had called him passive before.

"Try being direct for once, Phoenix. You're so arrogant," Manjoume jeered. "You always act like you can read other people's minds, but you can't, so drop it."

"You want me to be direct?"

"Yeah, try me."

"You overestimate yourself."

"...Is there a reason you aren't even a  _ tenth  _ as patronizing to Judai?"

"Because I haven't had to listen to Judai whining at event after event about his missing and inattentive ‘rival’."

"I-I d-don't do that!"

"Really?"

Edo didn't stand up when Manjoume stormed over, tripping over Judai's legs as he went. He didn't move at all when Manjoume reached down and grabbed the front of his motorcycle kit, jerking him up slightly. He laughed at it, this petulant display. Or, well, maybe he laughed in part at the entire fucking situation, which he was barreling towards -- meter by meter, an anticipation simmering under his skin. 

He had just waited through an awkward love confession in a safe and below the patrols of hostile security personnel, and now he was on the precipice of...whatever this was. The outline remained unclear, fogged up in places. 

Judai's attention was on them. It was not disapproving at all. 

Those mismatched irises were like flares. 

"...It must have been good the first time, right?" he asked, and each low, purposeful word made Manjoume's fingers clench more and more. Edo could see that, could feel the vibrations as if he were riding over a cracked road, the twisted pavement making tremors go all through his body.

"Of course it was," Manjoume snapped out, somehow both quiet and loud. Red streaked across his face. "I was there, and… You better have felt like a fucking king, Edo, otherwise…"

"Otherwise?" Edo muttered back, a dare. 

Manjoume didn't take it. His jaw was tense. His eyes drifted over Edo's face, down to his chest. Back up again. 

"Otherwise, I'll have to correct how you think of me."

Edo tilted his head up, bringing their faces closer together, and Manjoume's grip tightened. "Hmm. You sound so self-assured. Let me test that."

When he slotted their mouths together and felt Manjoume shiver into the heat, it was beyond his memories of that stupid, drunken night, the one where he had felt on the verge of spinning wildly out of control. Instead, he was lucid, the details as stark as they possibly could be. Judai made a choked-off groan as he watched the kiss, and Edo-

Edo did not have a problem with that.

Not at  _ all _ . 

Seized by a sudden desire, Edo leaned back, dragging Manjoume with him, and, sure, that meant unbalancing the other duelist -- Manjoume essentially falling over him while the kiss continued, shifted. To brace Manjoume, Edo put one hand on his thin waist, and just doing that felt far, far too good, like hitting the ignition and screaming forward. 

Eventually they would have to shift apart, of course. 

Eventually, but not yet. 

It was clumsy, how Manjoume kissed him back. It was also strong,  _ urgent.  _ Like something that had been put on hold for too long and needed to be let out. When Edo -- his eyes wide open and his heartbeat climbing -- sucked on Manjoume's bottom lip, the trembling, sudden gasp was almost as satisfying as that dark red blush. 

Breathing hard, they broke apart. Given the scowl, Manjoume must have realized his position, draped over Edo while Edo himself lounged on what could have easily been a restored throne in brash gold and delicate white. The fabric of Manjoume's out-of-date dress shirt was stiff, wrinkled, but not enough of a barrier to hide how his body felt. He took breath after breath. 

It still made no damn sense, how Manjoume of all people managed to have such a lean, narrow waist and tangible muscle that filled out his chest. Then again, was Edo  _ really  _ going to complain? Especially with the other duelist red-faced in his lap?

Nope.

"Given our surroundings, I do feel  _ somewhat  _ like a king," Edo joked, and although Manjoume grumbled, he hadn't moved off. Not yet. 

Like Edo, he looked over to the person who had watched the entire exchange, and Edo could only smirk back at the intensity displayed so raw and openly over Judai's countenance. Idly, Edo drummed his fingers against Manjoume's shirt, over the small of his back. 

Oh, yes. Judai saw that. 

Judai swallowed, his pupils wide, and it made Edo's breath catch. This was getting to Judai, wasn't it? 

That thought alone was extremely good. 

"Although… I feel like someone might challenge me any second now," Edo drawled out, and Judai laughed, the sound unusual for him. Tense. Low. 

"No way. That's not what I'm thinking at all," Judai stated, and when he looked up, Edo could trace the reaction -- Manjoume froze, breath hitching. To say that he was 'red' was insufficient. Maroon, perhaps. "Hey, Thunder. Come here."

"J-Judai?" Manjoume stammered, and Judai answered with his focus on Edo. Together, they were still traveling somewhere, and Judai seemed keen on picking up the pace. 

"Don't worry, Edo. I just want to compare your styles, that's all."

"Like some kind of judge, huh?" Edo replied, but he still raised his hand. It was probably incidental, how only  _ then  _ did Manjoume move back and stand up again. Regardless, that fact got inside his head and quickly became stuck. 

It was as if he and Judai were taking turns. 

Getting stuck in a safe was an educational experience, as apparently he liked that dynamic. A lot. 

Obsessively. 

Edo propped up his chin on his knuckles, his gaze flickering to Manjoume, who had stopped in front of Judai and seemed to be choosing his approach. Judai waited, and each second only let the tension thicken. Would he? Or  _ wouldn't  _ he? 

The pressure from before was no longer there over his lips, but he could remember it perfectly, how Manjoume had thrown so much of himself into that crash of a kiss.

With Judai, it began differently. 

In silence, Manjoume gradually lowered himself until his nose brushed Judai's own, Edo viewing everything in profile and trying not to blink. Manjoume paused at the last possible second, his parted lips above Judai's razor-sharp smirk. A beat passed. 

Then, in a rush, Manjoume dropped and took Judai's mouth, and Edo clenched his teeth as hard he could, stopping the moan from spilling out.

Lifting a hand, Judai brushed Manjoume's wild bangs away, and with the other, he drew Manjoume in closer by the back of his neck. The pure thrill of it all had only deepened. Edo wanted to make it last and last until his entire body was thrumming with that addictive, unstoppable energy, like an engine stressed to its limits and rattling so hard that it might break. Judai had remained an entrancing person, that effect not likely to ever just switch itself off, and while Edo had seen Judai do many things, both outlandish and deeply ordinary alike, he had never watched Judai to kiss someone.

It made him grit his teeth. Judai leaned into the kiss gently, a hint of a smile forming and then spreading out, widening. Edo’s own heartbeat felt more and more like a fist, battering the inside of his chest, and it only intensified because, really, they looked too good. This treasure box of gilded objects may have well been fucking empty. 

Of course, this display could be strengthened still. 

Judai absolutely could push back harder than that, and, panting, Manjoume broke away, his eyes polished silver.

There wasn’t any need for banter, not when Judai -- maintaining that vestige of calm, of  _ control  _ \-- simply turned his head and then motioned at Edo with two fingers. A ‘come on’ gesture.

It was a playful arrogance, typical of their own mock competitions. 

Edo got to his feet. With two steps, he was at the couch, and he took the free space at Judai’s left. The thick silence was that of a stadium, the audience waiting on pins and needles as a pivotal attack was declared, and Edo reveled in that environment, in the buzz it gave him. Stilted, Manjoume slid into the seat at Judai’s right. Clearly, he had not stopped being nervous, but something glowed beyond the pure red of his blush. No one had hit the brakes. 

So, Edo went for it.

Kissing Yuki Judai gave him the same brutal, all-consuming rush of taking a hard victory, only the wave did not crumble and fall down again after reaching its peak. It never gave him the lull he would have otherwise used to find his composure again. Instead, from start to finish, it was only the high. 

And,  _ oh _ , did he want to stay up there, not holding anything in reserve as he grappled with the feeling -- Judai’s tongue ran along his own, and everything became a blurred, wild mess. There were rougher sensations, the ridges of teeth. The magnetic draw of this person led him only higher, pushed him only faster, and the delicious thrill of it all only grew stronger at the choked-off gasp from Manjoume.

What, Thunder? Not expecting him to try so obviously to challenge Judai’s control?

Tsk, tsk.

As if it were a power move of some sort, Judai had left his hands loose at his sides, but Edo did not adhere to such a meaningless restriction. He grasped at Judai’s too-high collar, his short nails digging into the sliver of skin above it, leading up to that sharp jawline. He forced Judai to bend his neck, maintaining the soaring abandon of their first kiss. When it ended, it was not a gradual, slow release -- Edo took the lead again, shoving Judai back and letting his expression turn taunting. 

Your move, Judai.

Letting out an airy laugh, Judai blinked quickly and then said, “There were some differences, but I  _ really  _ should get a second trial from both of you. To...avoid biases… Right?”

“S-Smug bastard,” was Manjoume’s comment, and Edo snorted. Nothing unexpected.

“Don’t worry about it. That attitude won’t last for much longer,” he observed. He met Manjoume’s confused look. He arched an eyebrow, as if to say, ‘Well, Thunder? How about another round?’.

It was good -- like wind screaming in Edo’s ears as he was propelled even faster forward -- when Manjoume maintained the eye contact while slightly, ever-so-damn-slightly biting down on his bottom lip. With him, hesitation could suddenly flip into iron-hard determination. The seconds were counting down to the change.

Judai really was trying to play it cool, sitting there causally between them as if they had all crowded in too closely on a waiting-room sofa. The disguise was flimsy at best. 

Edo was going to make him lose it, badly.

The fascination in Manjoume’s eyes became steeled, a glimmer behind the hazy sheen. From there, it could not be stopped. Edo did not want it to stop.

Again, he was drawn in, and they kissed while each leaning forward, over Judai. Edo steadied himself with one hand on Judai’s thigh. He felt Judai tense. He savoured that, in combination to the press of Manjoume against himself. This time, it was much softer. Just a meeting between them both. A first step.

He swiped his tongue over Manjoume’s bottom lip, and at the gasp, he moved inside -- slowly, giving Manjoume all the time needed to decrease their speed to a crawl. Instead, there was a deeper gasp. Needier. 

Under his palm, Judai’s thigh shook. 

There was more to the show than only that, however.

With his tongue, Edo went after every shudder and every trace of a new heat, Manjoume’s own rising to meet him as Manjoume shuddered again and again in response. Little broken noises fell so freely, as if they had done this a hundred times already and all useless pretenses could be shredded and burned, done away with. Edo, seizing an opportunity, used his other hand to toy with the weak knot of Manjoume’s cheap tie, and when he tugged on it experimentally, the  _ gasp  _ he got for it went right through his own chest. 

He wouldn’t take it off -- that was something for Manjoume to decide on himself. 

Regardless, holding even the edge of it gave him the same jolt of raw pleasure as before, as when Manjoume only stood up after he had raised his controlling hand. He continued to pursue Manjoume. He kissed harder than before, and Manjoume shakily met the strokes of his tongue, creating an uneven rhythm. Bit by bit, they made the passing moments of this night turn languid, each carried out over a growing heat.

Edo had never meant to close his eyes. Breaking off, he found himself blinking at the person across from him, distinctly aware that Manjoume’s lips were now slick, shiny. He processed that while breathing in, and-

And then Judai was whispering against the shell of his ear.

“You don’t have to stop. It feels good to let go, doesn’t it?”

“I feel like using the phrase ‘smug bastard’ right about now. I wonder why,” Edo said as levelly as he could, which, admittedly, was not very, and- 

Judai kissed his neck. 

Judai licked a trail down over his skin, and Manjoume’s wide-eyed stare mirrored how Edo felt, his retort dying in his throat as Judai found a place and then sucked, just a little. Like a test. Edo tried to speak again, and yet, Judai had got him. Thinking coherently was impossible. Doing more than just  _ shaking  _ into it was a fool’s errand.

When Judai lifted his mouth, it had to be with a self-satisfied grin. He moved back just enough for Edo to  _ breathe  _ again, and his fingers slid quickly through grey strands, Edo’s ponytail loose and careless.

“I’ve liked this look on you for a while now,” Judai stated, a rumble of a laugh next. Edo redirected him. 

“It’s...not courteous if you don’t give Thunder the same treatment, isn’t it?” he heard himself rasp out -- muffled as if from far away. When Manjoume stiffened, it spurned him on, fuel for his wild trek. “Although, let’s make a rule for no obvious marks, shall we?”

“You’ll have to define ‘obvious’ for me,” Judai answered, his voice so  _ low _ . He had to be close to unleashing more of himself. His pointed canines showed as his grin broadened. “After all, you two always wear these high-collared suits…”

“H-How about  _ this _ ? If you give me a hickey, I’ll kill you,” Manjoume stammered out. Judai nodded.

Next, he gave Edo a suggestion that sounded far too much like an order.

“So, if you and Thunder want to keep going… I won’t stop you.”

Edo really should have argued that on principle. He should have made a smart-ass comment, at bare minimum. 

But, fuck it.

It was funny, how eagerly he climbed over Judai and then held off for the fraction of a second that Manjoume needed to complete the kiss. They both moved into it, dragging out the impossible charge caused by this simple contact, and although Edo didn’t see it, he knew exactly when Judai started on Manjoume. The shock rippled through their kiss, Manjoume biting down hard enough to hurt, and yet, hey, Edo didn’t care at all. If anything, he just gave over more of himself, kissing back with more power.

It was a frenzy of a kiss. He cracked one eye open, drawn immediately to how Judai -- fucking  _ beautiful  _ \-- tilted his head far to the side and licked right above Manjoume’s shirt collar, tightly tracing the curves of his throat. Every brush of his lips made Manjoume rock with blatant need. Edo took in those sensations. He sought to make them as intense as they possibly could be.

“W-Wait a second, slacker,” Manjoume mumbled against Edo’s waiting mouth, the other duelist panting heavily and fumbling with his tie. It was unceremoniously ripped off. Manjoume yanked down his shirt collar, baring more of his neck. His eyes had to be unseeing. They were like fogged-up mirrors, and so quickly, he was on Edo again, groaning into the first press of their mouths together. 

Edo’s mind was whirling. 

There were many, many possibilities of where to take this. Manjoume trembled against him. Judai gripped Edo's shoulder. Pushing into the kiss, he-

Someone cleared their throat from less than a meter away. 

The spirit of Elemental Hero Neos managed to look uncomfortable despite not having much of a face. Edo stood up, stepped back. Absently, he wiped his mouth, sparks still behind his eyelids. 

Whatever the spirit had to say next would likely be the ice-cold water to jolt them all back to reality, as it were. 

Edo's prediction turned out to be correct. Neos stiffened, addressing his controller.

"Someone is approaching the vault."

\---


	6. Substantial

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> note that the rating is now 'e', largely because of chapters 7 and 8. 
> 
> @____@

\---

Edo was on his feet.

“Can you be more specific about who that person is?” he asked as he dug through the inner pockets of his combat vest, and Neos -- despite still not having much of a face -- made an awkward cough, which was about just as productive as what the other two ‘heroes’ were doing. 

“Oh, well, I would describe him as tall and… W-Well…”

“You’re not very creative, are you?” Edo observed, arching an eyebrow, and he tossed Manjoume the plastic bag that he had just retrieved, the contents rattling. “Use the spray in there on anything we touched. Also, wipe down the case over the fake deck, just in case one of us smudged it by accident.”

“I- Urgh, screw it.  _ Fine _ ,” Manjoume grumbled back, and Judai answered for Neos, his eyes those of Yubel when Edo shot him a cursory glance. Edo shoved his helmet on, lowered the visor.

“Yeah, Neos was right to say something. This guy’s heading down the stairs in a determined way, not like the security guard from earlier.” Judai observed, and Edo quickly checked the room for forgotten items or, say, obvious strands of hair. Anything blatant. “Aside from being tall, he’s kinda old, got white hair, a  _ really  _ orange suit jacket, and...more rings than I’d know what to do with. He’s also by himself. Could be...the boss of this place?”

“That sounds just like Kosuge Hiroyuki,” Edo replied, cracking his knuckles once. As a precaution, he switched the radio off. Unexpected sound could be...inconvenient during the confrontation. “How much time do we have?”

“At the pace he’s going, under a minute. I think.”

“Take your shoes off.”

“...Uh? Sure?” 

“The same goes for you, Thunder,” Edo called out as he worked the first clasps of his boots open, and Manjoume made a hiss like a startled cat. Thankfully, he did  _ actually  _ appear to be following orders, going so far as to shove Judai off the couch so he could dose it with the clear, scentless liquid. While it wouldn’t eliminate  _ all  _ traces of their presence, it would take care of some common ones.

“Why would we need to-? Whatever. I don’t even care,” Manjoume declared before ripping off his dress shoes while the Ojamas shrugged at each other. 

The floor outside was tiled. Walking over it made a lot of noise, which hadn’t been a problem when they were alone. Unfortunately, that was no longer the case.

“Err, Edo…” Judai began, and Edo grabbed his arm, directing him towards the bulky sculpture by the safe door. A sulking Manjoume followed, the snake spirit wrapped tightly around his wrist. It was a  _ unique  _ situation if nothing else -- the three of them standing there in their socks and all listening for the first groans of the protected door. Edo clarified things. There were no interruptions.

“Kosuge Hiroyuki is an egoist, to put it lightly. Chances are, he’s coming down here to stare at his stolen goods. Therefore, he should just walk inside and begin examining the deck, and, Judai, I need you to get yourself and Manjoume out of here as soon as he’s distracted. I’ll leave last in case he suspects anything. You should hide behind the safe door outside, as I did earlier. Manjoume knows the place. After I join you, we’ll regroup, I’ll get the intel from Emeralda, and we’ll leave this building when the way’s clear. ...Straightforward, right?”

“I should leave last,” Judai said, because, yeah, duh. Edo rolled his eyes.

“Judai, while you  _ are _ stronger than me thanks to your fusion with Yubel, the simple truth is that you have far, far less experience when it comes to ambushing people.”

“You sound way too proud about that,” Manjoume grumbled under his breath, the Ojamas clinging to his jacket collar, and Edo ignored him. 

“We don’t have time for an argument. My plan gives us a chance of avoiding a confrontation, which… As much as I’d appreciate the opportunity for a one-on-one meeting with this  _ wonderful  _ person and pillar of the community, there are too many risks involved.”

Judai hummed to himself, leaning a shoulder against the wall. “You know, something tells me that you’ll find a way to get even with this Kosuge guy later.”

Edo smirked. Yes, Judai was right about that.

This was a crime that would not go unpunished.

“He’s here now,” Neos announced, phasing back in to deliver the message, and Judai straightened, one hand on his duel disk and the other clutching his well-used boots. With Judai and Manjoume in position and thus out of Kosuge’s eyeline, Edo crouched down in the far corner of the vault. Holding his boots was a bit awkward, admittedly, but...he could always smack them into Kosuge’s veneers and see if anything broke off.

Just as before, the vault door opened with deep, burrowing vibrations and a flurry of mechanical noises all building off each other -- the reactions cascading until the mass of heavy metal began to swing. Out of the corner of his eye, Edo could see Judai position himself in front of Manjoume, the other duelist cringing but staying silent. When Kosuge stepped forward, he was still over the sleek white tiles outside, the step ringing out. The next was silent, muffled by the plush red carpet. 

Ah, yes. There he was -- Kosuge Hiroyuki, in the deeply corrupt and unfortunate flesh.

Edo could not say that he was ‘charmed’ in the slightest.

Exactly like in the photos, Kosuge had the look of someone who had fussed over every possible millimeter of his appearance, down to the matching orange detailings on his animal-skin shoes, and yet also appeared hopelessly unbalanced. As Kosuge approached the deck under glass, Edo breathed in. Judai shouldn’t move until after the case had been removed, to prevent their reflections being caught moving across it. 

A second crawled by. 

With golden rings sparkling over wide fingers, Kosuge reached out to lift the glass structure up, setting it down on the nearest side table, and-

Judai was gone, dragging Manjoume after him. If Kosuge had so much as  _ breathed  _ in their direction, Edo would have dropped him to the floor with an unkind knee to the small of his back and cable-ties pressing his arms and legs together. But, for better or worse, that didn’t happen.

Instead, Edo glided out as soon as Kosuge’s attention was on the deck again. Once in the hallway, he signaled for the others to follow. The halls on the basement level branched out strangely, as if the building’s original purpose had been changed multiple times during the very last stages of construction. The almost-randomness of it all meant that they could hide and have a conversation, given that no one started yelling. 

Inside a hallway that was just as searingly white and barren as the others, Edo flipped up his visor and stopped. He found himself facing a very tense version of Manjoume -- the effect doubled by how pale the Ojamas were, rivaling the albino snake spirit itself -- and an energized Judai, rocking back on his heels. When Judai mimed ‘unzipping’ his mouth, Edo nodded once.

“So, it’s still just Kosuge down here. Want me to get eyes on him? As long as he’s in the vault, we’re all good, right?”

“Yes, but I can do that myself,” Edo replied, and he reached into his vest to pull out his own deck, collected together in a black box. The Bloo-D card was on the top. He removed it, flipped it once. The power of the spirit rippled inside the matter. 

It moved outside the card as his will dictated. Now, he wanted the shadowed hero to appear, and so it did: red wings dripping with tendrils of the night itself as Bloo-D rose from the blinding-white floor, the open maw on its right arm grinning out at them all with yellow fangs. Armored with maroon-red and black, the hero slowly neared its material form, grey membranes swirling inside the cages of their wings, and Manjoume very plainly, very obviously covered the Ojamas faces with his hands. Their screaming had reached a crescendo. 

“I take back all that stuff I said about you using your spirits more,” Manjoume stated, deadpan, and Judai snorted. Winged Kuriboh bounced on his shoulder.

At Edo’s side, the spirit radiated power in those steady, predictable waves, and he didn’t have to say the command. He tilted his head to the side, and the spirit understood. It was gone.

“That’s...so weird,” was Manjoume’s next comment. Edo shrugged.

“Not everyone needs to argue for thirty minutes with their own monsters. I’m surprised you haven’t realized this before. That’s rather shameful, isn’t it?” Ignoring the cut-off retort from Manjoume, he addressed Judai next. “I’ll make the call now. You should get your shoes on, since it’s possible that we’ll need to move right away.”

“Aw, you don’t like my Kuribohs?” Judai whined, wiggling his toes and making the monster-patterned socks dance. The actual Winged Kuriboh just ‘kuri kuri’-ed before floating away, as usual.

After stepping into his boots, Edo switched the radio on again, and as he raised it, he paused for a moment. He could say it was because he was listening for human activity. Instead, it was a  _ missing  _ sound that had grabbed his attention, held it down. 

...How long had it been since he had allowed Bloo-D to move from his deck? Had that presence and the lull of its heartbeat really seeped into every aspect of his life? 

Holding onto that card as tightly as he could would not reverse the nightmares and injustices of the past, of course. Perhaps he had more childish impulses lingering still than he had realized, some of them so strong that they had tainted his world blood red with paranoia, everything becoming a danger sign. 

His manager was there when he called, and after she had quickly explained the locations of the patrolling guards, he switched the radio off.

He looked up. Judai and Manjoume were waiting, leaning against the wall. 

“Let’s go,” he said, throwing his visor down, and there was no hesitation with how they matched his strides.

\---

In theory, it should have been much more difficult to navigate this building with two other people in tow, especially when Edo usually did this kind of spy-game activity alone. It...wasn’t difficult, however. 

Not in the slightest.

Armed with those supernatural senses and a lucky streak that ran very deep, Judai altered between running ahead and lingering back to secure their exit, those reflective irises of his in constant motion as he checked the halls and cubicles. Given that Judai could see through  _ walls _ , it made sense for him to fit so effortlessly into an operation like this. More than once, he had even reached out and grabbed Edo’s sleeve, shaking his head in a clear signal to wait. Each time, Edo held their position, and each time, Judai had been right. Complications -- in this case, taking down various guards -- were thus avoided.

Given the competition, Manjoume had little chance of being a stand-out member of their group, but, well, Edo did have to give credit where it was due -- Thunder  _ tried  _ like they were on a survival show and he wanted every last one of the audience’s votes. If Edo rasped for him to stay still, then he wouldn’t even breathe until they were okay to move on. Whenever Judai  _ bolted  _ down a different hallway than expected, waving frantically over his shoulder, Manjoume was on his heels, all while cradling those mascot characters that he called spirits. 

If there hadn’t been a necessary restriction on noise, then Edo would’ve let himself laugh just...because he could, his adrenaline beginning to bubble and surge. Nothing hit quite like scrambling through world-class security systems, and, evidently, that effect hit even  _ harder  _ with these duelists matching his steps, waiting for his signals. Leaning against him.

It didn’t seem to matter that he was wearing a thick motorcycle kit; he felt it each time Judai or Manjoume touched him. Naturally, he didn’t allow it to affect him, not in a situation like this.

Judai’s black turtleneck stretched tightly over his pecs whenever he leaned far to the side, suggesting that the rest of Judai was just as cut as his arms underneath the fabric. That was...something to confirm later, preferably with himself over Judai and mapping out Judai’s chest with his hands. Ideally, anyway. Judai was unlikely to let him hold onto the lead for too long without challenging him. 

Yubel’s fangs were clear whenever Judai smiled too wide.

Like Edo, Judai could only be enjoying this, and knowing that just made the rush of excitement all the stronger.

In contrast, Manjoume was red-faced from exhaustion as they neared the final set of interlocking hallways. He did keep up well, notably attentive to orders. The exact  _ way  _ he did so reminded Edo of how Manjoume hadn’t moved off his lap until he had raised his hand, which was as addictive as freefall, as wind screaming loud in his ears when he floored it over a torn-up road. 

\---

The only snag occurred right before he shoved Judai and Manjoume towards the staff door, which led to a parking lot and  _ then  _ to outside Kosuge’s property and surveillance. 

It was rather difficult to sign out ‘I have to remove some security bugs before I leave, otherwise someone is going to notice them,’ so he whispered it instead. Although the others did leave, Winged Kuriboh had, coincidentally, developed a habit of following him around this corporate maze. 

Edo could only sigh at that.

After double-checking that he wasn’t being followed by any not-Kuriboh interlopers, Edo finally left the building, strode across the parking lot, and bolted into the nearest alleyway, his phone already out and the texts from his manager with their meeting coordinates on the screen. She had already picked up the others, probably yanking them into a nondescript van. 

Edo would’ve liked to have seen that, for comedy purposes.

He messaged her back quickly -- just drop them off at my place, and that should be the end of it. 

Emeralda, of course, sent back an affirmation. If he stepped out of the alleyway and tilted his chin all the way back, he would have seen the edge of the building holding his penthouse at the very top.

He went to seek out the motorcycle that he had camouflaged with a tarp and some convenient boxes. He ditched the plain helmet, switched the suit out for the second one that he had kept with the bike. He had stowed his usual helmet in the alley as well, a design in silver and orange on the sides, and as he swung his leg over the bike, the air around him thickened. The space condensed.

The heartbeat-like effect of his ace monster had returned, and he closed his eyes, isolating it from the constant noise of the city in motion around him. 

Perhaps the appropriate thing to say was ‘Welcome Home,’ not that he’d had much of a reason to say that in years and years. 

Then again, he didn’t need to say anything, reflective of how this bond twisted and tunneled its way down through his very being. When he opened his eyes again, the little snake spirit was attached to his palm, the feigned bite done with less enthusiasm than before. 

“Don’t worry. You’ll see those guys soon enough,” Edo said, and he flicked the visor down, the engine revving. 

\---

In a sense, he had wandered into part of his childhood dream (or perhaps, nightmare) of living alone at the top of a tower, with the city appearing almost as an aurora below. The vivid flows of the color were defined by the ongoing traffic and flickering neon lights. 

Then again, a three-story penthouse in the heart of the downtown area was rather different than a dreary clocktower haunted by the phantoms of pain and misery. Plus, there was also the indoor pool to consider. 

The private elevator took him directly to the first floor, and he was pulling his unwashed hair into a tight ponytail as the clear doors opened, revealing an open expanse of marble tiles that led to a wall of floor-to-ceiling windows. The sight was predictable.

The voice calling out to him was not.

“Yo, Edo! Mind if we go through your fridge?” 

Judai was promptly cut off by Edo’s second ‘guest.’ “Y-You’re too late to be asking him that!”

“Do whatever you want,” Edo answered. “Although, I don’t think you’ll find anything that suits your taste, Judai.”

Striding into the open-concept living room, Edo dropped his helmet on the coffee table positioned between the sectional and two low-back armchairs, all positioned to take in the sights beyond the glass walls. Cracking his shoulders, he began the straightforward process of removing his socks, thick boots, and the motorcycle suit, the slight chill of the indoor space welcome over his arms and legs. Then, for a beat, he just sat down on the sectional and breathed in, the buzz of adrenaline from earlier accompanied by a familiar weariness. It tingled up his spine, drifted over his shoulderblades.

Judging by the sounds from the kitchen around the corner, Judai and Manjoume seemed to be halfway through destroying it. So, he really didn’t have a choice, did he?

He set the retrieved deck on the table. Phasing in as a blur of grey-white, the spirit over it peered up at him with curiosity and a flick of its reptilian tongue.

After throwing his gear somewhere more convenient, he padded soundlessly on bare feet into the sleek, modern space, and he surprised Manjoume badly enough that the Ojama duelist dropped both cans of coffee that he had been holding. One rolled out of sight, the other clunking against one still-open fridge door. 

“W-What are you, an assassin?” Manjoume blurted out, his gaze dropping from Edo’s face briefly. And then Manjoume was off to pick up the cans again. 

“I’m seriously intimidated by your fridge, by the way,” was what Judai piped up with as he held both doors open, blinking widely at the neat rows of products inside. Snorting, Edo just reached past him for a sparkling water and then returned to the living room. It didn’t take long for both of his Dual Academia peers to trail after him. 

Where Judai had managed to find the chips that he was cheerfully munching through was a total mystery, Edo would admit. He took the chair closest to Edo’s place on the sectional, and instead of taking the other chair, Manjoume sat down next to Edo. There was distance between them, sure, but-

That could be changed, couldn’t it?

Edo twisted the cap off his bottle, the fine bubble moving in a frenzy.

“Do you  _ really  _ live off of water, bottled tea, protein bars, and  _ nothing  _ else?” Manjoume observed, all judgment, and Edo only hummed at first. When he swiped Manjoume’s second coffee, the complaining began. He gave his audience a winning smirk.

“Well, sometimes I have coffee as well.”

For the second time, Manjoume’s stare swerved away from his face. Those long fingers drummed against the can. Manjoume cleared his throat. “You...should probably take those things off. Not that...I  _ care  _ if they get stuck to you.”

Manjoume must have been referring to the heat wraps, both visible since he was just in a tank top and shorts. “It’s good that you clarified. Otherwise, I would’ve made the mistake of thinking that you liked me,” was his easy reply, and it landed as a direct hit, Manjoume gnashing his teeth. Edo continued on, Judai perking up. “More importantly, we should have a nice, level-headed discussion about what to do with this deck, since my charity's event is in sixteen hours.”

“Yeah, that...puts some time pressure on us,” Judai admitted with a laugh. 

“We’ve established that Kayamori stole the deck from his own school. So, Judai, where exactly  _ is  _ this jilted master?”

“Uh, he shouldn’t be too far away. He was...kinda hoping to run into you outside the big event hall.”

“I’m sure that would’ve been pleasant.”

“To be fair, Kayamori  _ did  _ really harm the school. The master’s got a reason to be passionate,” Judai explained, waving a hand. “Although, it seems to me like we can’t really decide what to do with the deck before talking to him. It’s...overstepping some boundaries, otherwise. These are his cards.”

“Do you have his phone number?”

Judai made a noise. It was not an encouraging one. “I… Might?”

“Might?”

“Gimme a second,” Judai hurriedly replied, clicking his battered phone’s screen on and tapping at it, Winged Kuriboh offering some hoots in support. At Edo’s right, Manjoume shifted in place.

“At least drink that coffee if you’re going to take it,” Manjoume grumbled under his breath.

“I don’t normally drink coffee at 3 in the morning. Or is that typical for you?”

“It  _ is  _ if I’m expecting to argue with someone as stubborn as you.”

“Hm. That could be the case, or…”

“ _ Or _ ?” Manjoume repeated snidely, and when Edo met his eyes, a thrill ran through his entire body -- all the way from the crown of his head to the soles of his feet. He watched Manjoume swallow, that tie still hanging loosely around his fair neck.

“Or...maybe you’re wanting to stay up late for another reason,” Edo said, flashing a victor’s smile, and it flustered Manjoume, instantly. 

“Err… Am I interrupting something?”

Given that Judai's contacts list was open, chances were that he had found the ‘master’s’ address. That would simplify matters. Edo turned away from Manjoume, noting the growl that escaped through the other duelist’s clenched teeth. 

“Forward me the number. My manager will be in touch with him.”

“Uh, sure. One sec.” Judai jabbed at the screen, and Edo’s personal phone vibrated with the message. He quickly passed it along to Emeralda, including the necessary details in a second message. “What’s the plan then?”

“I’ll meet with him as soon as he’s available.”

“I mean, as long as it’s before the gala, it should all work out,” Judai said, toothy grin in place, and then he switched tactics. He asked a question, and Edo’s fingers stopped partway through a sentence. “Hey, Edo, you wouldn’t happen to have any spare tickets lying around, would you?”

“I...figured that crashing the gala would be more your style” he answered, suddenly aware that Judai’s focus was at its apex, the warm brown of his irises crackling with... _ that _ , that power of his. 

“I get that you’ve put in a lot of work, planning all of this out, but...maybe you need some friends around at the gala to make sure that you enjoy more than anyone else.”

“Of  _ course  _ we’ll go to your party,” Manjoume blurted out, and Edo just...nodded, still trapped in whatever the  _ hell  _ Judai’s power over him was. “Actually, it’s messed up that you didn’t invite me earlier, given my position in the league and-”

“Have you forgotten the part where we made out six weeks ago and then proceeded to never talk about it?”

“F-Fuck off?! That-”

Judai interrupted, grin curving into a smirk. “Well, then what’s your excuse for not inviting me, Edo? I’m pretty sure we didn’t make out six weeks ago.”

“Evidently not. Although, I wouldn’t describe you as ‘punctual.’”

“Yeah, but if you want me somewhere, I’ll be there. Count on that.”

“...Weren’t we supposed to be discussing the deck?” Edo heard himself ask, so close to stammering the words out awkwardly as his vision seemed to tunnel. He blinked, breathed in. He almost laughed at how  _ pure  _ this feeling was, and he hadn’t even touched Judai yet, or the person sitting at his side. “Of course, there...will be tickets reserved at the door for you. I’ll organize that.”

“Cool,” Judai chirped back, and his smirk became even more indulgent. It should have looked ridiculous.

It made those delayed wants of his pull at him with a vengeance, making him subservient to their undertow. Edo started talking.

“According to the firm that designed this place, the shower in the master bathroom can fit six people. I’ll admit, I’ve never  _ tried  _ that,” he said, feeling his lips curl as Judai laughed, “but I’m clearly not the only person here who could be a lot cleaner. So…?”

“So…?” Judai repeated, mischief as embers in his changing eyes, and he stood up. The simple action felt as though it had raised the stakes in some game, like when a critical card was turned during a duel -- Edo’s focus tightened, adrenaline flickered and snapped through him. There was only one course of action left.

Rising, he glanced from Judai to Manjoume. Pink was streaked over his cheekbones. Dark tendrils of hair hung in random patterns in front of his unblinking grey eyes, hands clenched tightly by his sides. The can was indented, the label unreadable from how the material had been stressed.

“So… Do you want the grand tour?” Edo asked, directed to them both, and Judai’s easy chuckle contrasted too perfectly with Manjoume’s sharp intake of breath. To further the point, Judai actually gave him the ‘gotcha’ gesture next. Edo rolled his eyes as he sauntered ahead. 

“Sure. Let’s see just how much your agency spoils you,” was Manjoume’s reply after a long beat, the intended sting of those words dulled by their rasping, breathy quality, and so Edo continued to walk forward. After two flights of stairs, he set down a trophy-lined hallway until it ended at a tall set of black doors. When he opened one, he held it long enough for Judai to place a hand on it, stopping it from swinging shut. As it should be, the bedroom was exactly how Edo had left it.

“...Hold on. I've just decided to become a pro duelist,” Judai blurted out. He stepped further inside, craning his head back at the sight of Edo’s television -- the best part of the apartment, the pool taking a respectful second place. It spanned most of the wall opposite the bed, which allowed for the very efficient combination of lying on the outrageously soft sheets and having tokusatsu directed into his brain. 

“Oh, come on. You could never handle the schedules,” Manjoume grumbled, decidedly unimpressed as he closed the door and flicked his bangs back. Then, he cracked an unkind smile. “Damn, Edo. The press let’s you off too easily when it comes to how juvenile your personal taste is. What, are you going to buy a  _ racecar  _ bed next?”

Edo snorted. “Have you forgotten that you’re an Ojama duelist? You of all people should be far more cautious when bringing up matters of personal taste.”

“Hey,  _ I  _ don’t have  _ action figures  _ lined up in my  _ bedroom _ ,” Manjoume snapped back, caustic, and Judai was immediately sprinting over to the glass cabinets adjacent to the floor-to-ceiling windows and peering inside with maximum enthusiasm. 

“Oh. Oh my  _ God _ , Edo. I… Uh, can we get these out later? For...entertainment purposes?” Judai asked all at once, dropping to his knees to check out the bottom shelves before leaping back up again, and Manjoume sighed with all of his body, each new level of disappointment very entertaining from Edo's perspective.

“Slacker, he probably doesn’t let anybody play with those, like some...weird...otaku...collector.”

“Your insults are getting progressively less creative. I should feel sorry for you,” Edo observed, and Manjoume’s hiss was drowned out by Judai yelping in surprise.

“Wait, is that a...figure of  _ Police Warrior _ ?!”

“Oh, you read that comic too?”

“Dude, I was obsessed with it,” Judai exclaimed, blinking at the figure in white and black beyond the glass, and then he pivoted in place. “I’m serious, by the way. We should totally have a battle later.” Before Manjoume could complain, Judai cheerfully continued with, “Thunder can play the bad guy who, like, knocks stuff over.”

Shrugging and rotating his right arm, Edo replied with, “Well, if you beat me in a duel later, I might consider it."

“Deal,” Judai replied instantly.

“You were made for each other.”

Raising an eyebrow, Edo turned to glance at Manjoume over his shoulder, and the other duelist just gaped at him, looking far too surprised -- as if the words had come from another person. Manjoume opened his mouth hurriedly, but he only closed it again, his analytical gaze flickering to Judai and then back again. 

"I mean, I'm not sure if that's  _ actually  _ true," Judai said teasingly, breaking the silence before it could really set into place and harden, and he walked away from the display cabinets until he could -- smiling all the while -- lean an arm on Edo's left shoulder. "Although, I think I get your point. Me and Edo, we're kinda similar."

"...Y-Yeah," Manjoume stuttered back, yanking absently on his jacket's sleeves. Judai had left his own downstairs, his bare wrist present over Edo's skin. It was interesting, how dissimilar the touch felt from those that Edo had become numb to -- the ones from sparring matches, fan events, fittings and the photoshoots they entailed. It was...very present, Manjoume's gaze set on that point of contact. 

When the thought came to Edo, there was no way that he could resist saying it. 

"Well, then none of this should be surprising, given that Manjoume has a  _ preference  _ for the hero type," Edo drawled, and while he had expected for Manjoume to turn red and uselessly sputter in place, that didn't make the reality any less interesting. Judai just laughed -- clustered, rolling sounds. 

"Ahhh, that makes sense…"

"Morons," Manjoume grumbled as general feedback, crossing his arms, and Edo-

Shrugging Judai's arm off, he took long strides across the room, twisting his hair as he went. "Before we stand here all night bickering over nothing, I should probably take a shower."

Judai whistled, circling after him. "I can come too, right?"

"If you want," Edo said, and after he directed the handle down, he looked back at Manjoume again. Grey eyes blinked owlishly. "That's an invitation for you too, in case you somehow missed that."

In actuality, the design firm had likely been underselling just how big the shower was, and even former-rich-boy Manjoume Jun went silent and gawked at the construction of glass, the interlocking tiles of pristine stone accompanied by shining, state-of-the-art fixtures and a floor that transitioned from a mosaic-like design to fine, loose stones. At one of the two sinks, Edo methodically stripped off the heat wraps and rubbed at the sections of skin with a towel until the remaining bits of sticky residue vanished. 

A very intelligent conversation occurred in the background. 

"Is it, like, a rich person thing to have actual rocks in the shower?"

"I've...seen it in spas before."

"I'm learning so much."

"Doubt it," Manjoume grumbled, and as Edo splashed water over his face, he registered someone with deft, light steps nearing. Leaning against the other sink.

"See? It's not complicated, is it?" Judai observed, head tilted back, and Edo rolled his eyes. He shut the faucet off. 

"No, not at all," Edo admitted, and then it just happened, easy as taking a breath. Judai angled his head down, wild hair shifting with the motion, and Edo moved in and met his mouth. Just like that first kiss, he was immediately soaring from the pressure of it, going high and taking only satisfaction from it, and Judai hummed into the connection, the backs of his knuckles ghosting a path over Edo's jawline that -- strange as it was -- became only more and more  _ vivid  _ despite how gentle it was, something that was barely there at all. 

When Edo grabbed Judai by the back of his neck and pulled him  _ in _ , the pressure of the kiss increased to a dizzying, critical level, and Edo knew what he wanted. He goaded Judai with teasing sweeps of his tongue until Judai pushed against him harder, the razor-edge of that smirk accompanied by a blazing energy. Inside his mouth, Judai was something overwhelming and captivating that Edo would always, always seek out, challenge. Mess with. 

They broke apart with harsh pants, Edo's own smile going wide as he took in the slightly glazed quality to those irises -- one-upping Judai in  _ anything  _ always felt great. Blinking, Judai recovered quickly, but that break in Judai’s concentration had happened nonetheless. 

This was only the prelude, so to say. He hadn't finished testing Judai's composure.

Edo even knew what method to use. 

\---


	7. Tangential

\---

He turned around, the command already out of his mouth. "Hey, Thunder, come here." 

Right on cue, Judai went still, hissing in a breath through clenched teeth, and Edo didn't have to check; he knew Judai's pupils would be blown and surrounded by flecks of green, blue, and orange. Each bit of colour would be indicative of an unstoppable fascination, which Edo was about to strengthen, to drive to its hard limits. And-

And Manjoume did step closer, hesitant with his head cocked to the side and his jaw tensed. He stopped in front of Edo. Under the knot of his throat, his tie, shirt collar, and jacket collided as a rumpled mess. 

It was with a whisper that Manjoume broke the unsteady silence. "God, you're so easy to figure out, Edo. Don't think for a  _ second  _ that I haven't noticed what a control freak you are."

"Hm. But you are indulging me, aren't you? So, it can't be that bad," Edo joked, and Manjoume dropped his chin, giving a very, very rare smile that made Edo grip the sink behind him. It wasn't one intended for any broadcast or crowd. 

"We seem to have the common goal of annoying Judai. Plus, it's pretty funny, that you expect to keep up such a calm persona."

"Oh? Are you doubting me?" Edo replied, and he shifted forward, obeying the pull that had gained strength ever since he had watched Manjoume at that hazily lit bar, drawing circles in the condensation. Manjoume's thin lips parted for him when he moved in, long-lashed eyelids sliding closed, and with a quiet, startled hitch of his breath, Manjoume leaned into the beginnings of the kiss. Hell, maybe he could even taste Judai on Edo. It was likely. 

Edo pursued Manjoume, chasing him down until his body quivered and his breathing caught, and Edo did so while keeping his eyes open, peering to the side. Judai worried his bottom lip between his fanged teeth so strongly that, really, it was surprising that he hadn't cut himself. 

...Interesting.

Reaching up, Edo glided one hand over the creases in Manjoume's jacket, and he could watch how Judai breathed in -- flames alight in the amber -- while the kiss deepened, changed. Manjoume was the first to pull away, whimpering and then dropping his gaze as he steadied himself. His chiding, purposeful words contrasted with how overwhelmed he seemed, those multiple layers rippling with each hurried inhalation. 

"Judai, you're barely holding on, aren't you? Come on. I haven't even taken my suit off yet."

"Hey, I'm just...enjoying the view," Judai drawled out, and Edo noticed the muscles in his arms tensing, fingers flexing. Oh, Judai, Judai… Tsk, tsk. Trying to play it cool won’t work. "I'm hoping for a recreation of what happened six weeks ago."

"Recreations are boring," Manjoume stated, and Edo snorted. 

"So, you want to go further then?"

"If you'll  _ let  _ me, Mr. Control Freak," Manjoume replied, showing teeth, and when Edo just waved a hand, Manjoume's response was to roll his suit jacket off his shoulders and drop it. Next, he pulled on his tie -- just that action already revealing more of his pale throat -- and set on loosening it with deft fingers. 

"At least only one of us is wearing a suit this time. It's less work," Edo observed, haughty, and Manjoume gave him a cutting grin as he raised his hands to the top button. Toying with it. 

Being a bastard because he could. 

Edo understood the tactic very, very well, and he approached again, forcing Manjoume to tilt his head down. Their mouths slotted together, and from the first instance of contact, it was deep, getting right to the core that they both wanted. And, again, Edo stared back at Judai, relishing in the fact that he  _ could  _ as Manjoume shook and gasped from every motion of his tongue. And-

A crucial difference was that, this time, Edo slipped back first, but it wasn't very far. As he spoke, his lips were over Manjoume's own. They stayed parted, waiting. 

In freefall, Edo was in no way immune to that effect. 

"If you want to unbutton your shirt, I wouldn't complain about it," he stated, his voice as level as it could be. A flaw must have been audible regardless, given how Manjoume exhaled as a chuckle. 

"You can be more direct, you idiot."

"I'm giving you space to stop this."

"Trust me, I'll curse you out if you say something weird," Manjoume said, and Edo was...too far, obeying the pull and the building sensation of wind screaming freely in his ears. The world as he understood it now was built purely off the sensations it could give and the sights it held. 

"Thunder, unbutton your shirt."

And-

Manjoume popped the first button, his expression snide and prideful and so very  _ knowing _ , and Edo didn't argue back at all, swallowing as Manjoume continued down. Between the falls of white fabric, Manjoume's chest was gradually revealed, the shapes of it both stark and still hidden. There was so much fabric remaining, and Edo knew that he was clenching his teeth -- intrinsically affected. 

"It’s too easy to get inside your head,” Manjoume rasped out, daring to wear such a smug expression even though his blush was still a bright, vivid red, and Edo had meant to respond, to drive the three of them further and further into this haze of a feeling. The words were impossible to say. 

Even someone like himself could be caught off guard. 

Without looking away, Manjoume lowered himself down and down until he was on his knees, the grey of his dress pants stretched over his thighs. The shirt rested uneasily on his shoulders, his slender clavicle like a recurve bow, and although his loose strands of hair fell over his face, they could not hide the knowing,  _ pleased  _ glint of those eyes because- Yes. Manjoume had seen through him, and Edo-

“Come on. Aren’t you going to try and order me around, you  _ elite _ ?” Manjoume asked, lolling his head back, and Edo could only stare, completely overloaded. That was when Judai moved.

“I think we should have that shower right about now,” was the rush of words as Judai stalked over, grabbed at Manjoume’s loose, open collar, and pulled him up again, their kiss at a whole different level than anything before it. Judai was beautiful, his face in profile as he took Manjoume’s slick mouth and held Manjoume against himself, chests rising and falling quickly as the rapid movements continued, escalated. With a wet sound, Judai began to shift away, and then he didn’t. Angling his head, he kissed Manjoume even harder, the tremble it caused visible -- chest rolling up, hips jerking forward once. 

Time moved out of place, and Edo found himself shoved against the sink while Judai licked up from his jugular notch and then mouthed at the side of his neck. Just as quickly, the connecting steps of it indistinct, Edo was suddenly engaged in a sloppy, burning kiss with Manjoume. When Judai’s palm ran over his flat stomach, Edo took the hint and stripped his shirt off, Manjoume’s own drifting away somewhere between their next kiss and Judai breaking in, breaking  _ it _ , to nip at Edo’s shoulders.

Edo wanted Judai just as bare.

He took off Judai's shirt himself, enjoying the brief moment of power when Judai’s arms were locked in the fabric. Judai was lean, his chest notched and almost serrated in places from how the bones and muscles had settled underneath his warm, tanned skin, and touching him just added to the sensory overload of all of  _ this _ . Edo followed the flow of his body from his wide shoulders to his defined stomach, dragging his fingers in every groove and marveling at every solid detail. At some point, Manjoume had moved in, getting all over him and whimpering into his mouth, and the clang of Judai’s belt opening reminded Edo that, right, there was a  _ shower  _ to start. 

Edo was not prone to stumbling around, but even facing this level of distraction (his mouth felt different, he kept shivering and then bracing himself), he managed to be aware of the fact that he entered the shower with a negative amount of grace. But, it didn’t matter. How  _ could  _ it matter?

Normally, he would just turn on the main shower head: imitating a sudden summer’s rain, cloaking him within its noise and falling drops. He pulled at the necessary controls to make everything within this glass enclosure into rain, into a torrent of warm, pounding water, and his too-long hair dripped over his eyes, spread over his bare shoulders. At least, until Judai approached and gathered the strands together, carefully directing them to rest to the side. Edo swallowed, and then he turned around, yanking Judai down and taking his mouth with complete abandon. He dove in, Judai groaning and clutching him closer -- hot palms over his biceps, traveling towards his back and to his hips.

Like himself, Judai had stripped down already, and Edo felt down from the nape of Judai’s neck to the curve of his ass, digging his nails in and reeling from the breathy laugh Judai made against his bottom lip. “Eager, aren’t you?” Judai teased, and Edo did not imagine the flakes of gold that stirred in the mazes of his eyes. Edo grinned at him, staying close. His cock was pressed tightly against Judai’s inner thigh, and even the smallest bit of friction sent sparks up from the point of contact and overcharged him. 

“Don’t pretend that you aren’t,” Edo replied, and he flexed his abs, Judai’s erection right on his lower stomach and about as subtle as, oh, being struck by lightning. Judai flinched, his upper lip pulled back in what wasn’t actually a snarl, that flare of his eyes incompatible with things like anger, annoyance. Emotions that seemed very, very boring right now. 

Especially when there was another element to consider here still, and Edo glanced over on the same beat as Judai did. Manjoume eased the shower door shut, rivulets of water quickly running over his pale skin and dripping down his exposed chest, reaching his legs as thin, glassy streaks that continued their engaging fall. Edo stepped away to make room, the agreement with Judai already completed. Judai directed Manjoume in, closer and closer, until Manjoume’s back was to Judai’s chest and Edo took the only step he needed to be against Manjoume -- kissing him until that too-strong hesitancy dissipated. 

Edo hummed and slowly raised his arms. He ran his fingers over Manjoume’s wrists. Even though he wasn’t touching Judai, he knew when Judai moved. Reactions built off of reactions, Manjoume’s lips parting in a low, unsteady gasp as Judai’s arms locked around his waist. 

When Judai kissed Manjoume’s neck, the gasp became a whine, and Edo’s heartbeat reached a dangerous pace.

“Enjoying yourself?” Edo said, a bad joke, as he leaned away, and Manjoume set an ineffective glare on him. 

"I-  _ Ah _ ," Manjoume broke off, Judai's tongue flashing over his neck, and when Edo leaned in, Manjoume was quick to force their mouths together, the angle off. The connection a total mess, and Edo carefully -- observing everything that he could within this spinning world encased in rain -- ran both of his hands along Manjoume's hip bones. He traced the prominent 'v'. Higher, Judai's fingers splayed out, contrasting with Manjoume's skin. 

Of course Manjoume was hard, the defined head of his cock flushed a deep pink, and Edo drew out the kiss until he had almost reached the base. 

"Is there something you want?" he heard himself ask -- muted and quiet, Judai inhaling sharply in the background. Manjoume trembled, but he also didn't blink, a determination flashing as new red streaked over his cheekbones. 

He rolled his hips to the side, bringing Edo's fingertips in contact with his shaft, and Edo chuckled, the reasons why all tangled up and strange and irrelevant. "F-Figure it out, genius," Manjoume shot back, speaking made all the more difficult by Judai's nips at the long column of Manjoume's neck. Edo knew it increased the difficulty; he could feel how Manjoume's cock twitched. 

Even just running his palm along the underside was enough to make Manjoume spasm against Judai, more of his neck exposed as he leaned on Judai for support, and Edo was both dizzy from it and extremely present, hyper-aware. Tightening his grip had Manjoume panting within seconds, water droplets outlining the architecture of his chest and following their thin, winding paths all the way to his gleaming thighs. 

Edo Phoenix was a fast learner. 

Each cause and effect was noted and then thoroughly investigated, the  _ sounds  _ from Manjoume falling recklessly with no barriers in place to catch them. 

"That's good, Jun," Judai murmured as his hands began to explore, quick fingers circling the dull pink of a nipple, and Edo didn't even blink when Manjoume -- flinching -- stepped on his foot and then rammed him with a knee. Collateral damage; irrelevant. The cock on his hand pulsed and pulsed until it was a solid line of heat. Judai's mouth was over the shell of Manjoume's ear. "If you want to cum, then you should. I'm here for you."

"I-I- _Fuck_ , Judai. E-Edo…"

He was too high to watch his own reactions. He tasted Manjoume's breath, placed a lingering kiss over those parted lips. "You were right earlier, Thunder. I do feel like a  _ king _ ," he murmured while tightening his grip and making even, purposeful strokes, "when you're gasping for me. So, come on. Just let go."

He stilled his hand when it happened -- Manjoume shouting, twisting his head far to the side, and his body arched against Judai's with a violent urgency, his hips jerking with deep, heavy motions as cum hit Edo's stomach and dripped towards the tiles as dictated by the streaming water. Unabashedly, Edo stared at Manjoume's chest, at how tightly Judai's hands held him in place while a pleased, languid grin spread over Judai's face. 

"You're alright?" Judai asked. 

"Y-Yeah, I'm…" Shaking his head, Manjoume trailed off, his gaze unfocused, and- "J-Judai?!"

In the blink of an eye, Judai adjusted his hold, one arm around Manjoume's waist, and the new position had Manjoume's shoulder against Judai's chest. It freed one of Judai's hands. 

Judai  _ definitely  _ didn't have claws earlier that night. It could have been a feature of his fusion and a frayed, broken control, and they pressed fiercely into Edo's bicep as Judai dragged him forward, the kiss a collision of fanged teeth and their tongues and the growls spilling from both of their mouths. Even a  _ brush  _ of Judai's erection against his own brought a new, choking rush of pleasure, and rocking with Judai, Edo pursued that feeling, brought himself even higher. 

"I got you. Don't worry," Judai murmured with a knowing tilt to the words, and Edo shuddered when Judai let go and then took them both in his free hand -- nails still longer, scales flickering over his clever fingers. The grip staggered Edo, his forehead on Judai's chest and his mouth open. The altitude had increased; his thoughts somewhere else. 

Judai set a slow pace at first, Edo muttering nonsense over his heart, and it could only be Manjoume who was toying with his hair, combing it behind one ear.

"F-Faster," was all he managed to grit out, and the sensations overlapped with renewed intensity, himself hurled along with them at a breathtaking speed. Judai worked his cock, the pressure of that hand obliterating any pretenses of Edo being able to straighten up again, to close his mouth and stop the gasps from escaping. 

His orgasm hit him with zero warning, the  _ wave  _ of that pleasure impossibly hot as it coursed through his body and then ebbed and flowed until it eventually managed to calm itself. His eyes were open, pointlessly. His arms were somewhere over Judai and wrapped around Manjoume, his heartbeat echoing like the ring of a great bell, something cast in bronze. 

Suddenly, Judai was kissing him, and everything snapped into focus -- the pounding of the warm water, the hard drive of Judai's still-erect cock against his hip and leaving a trail of pre-cum that the water could only slowly erase. Edo knew that he spoke strangely, the consonants too harsh and clipped. His throat had gone tight. 

"W-What's the point in waiting, Judai?" 

Colours spiraled in the amber, beads of water dripping off Judai's bangs and over his draconic stare. Surging forward, Manjoume was the one who kissed Judai next, the lines of his throat stark and wet, gleaming. Edo went lower, palming at the end of Judai's cock and pushing against the sensitive head. Manjoume's mouth muffled how Judai groaned, guttural. 

It was chaos. Judai rocked against his hand. Sometimes Manjoume's mouth found his own, just that connection of their lips enough to be satisfying, and sometimes Judai was muttering against his face, pushing back his hair. And when Manjoume's pale, thin fingers wrapped around the base of Judai's cock while Edo kept simulating the head, the tension wracking Judai's body increased.

Chances are, Edo said something mocking. He couldn't recall it, like screaming during a freefall with his parachute still in its case. Noise like that became just an extension of breathing, a response to becoming  _ lost  _ in the fleeting reality of a moment and all of its intricate beauty. 

Judai was too beautiful, and he came like that, Edo's fingers catching the warm bursts and Manjoume's own clenched around the thick shaft. As an achievement, Judai was red until his ears. 

It was a very, very good look for him.

\---


End file.
